


Ciudad de Estrellas

by gwyneth rhys (gwyneth)



Category: Fast and the Furious (2001)
Genre: Cars, Crimes & Criminals, First Time, Head Shaving, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It Wasn't All a Lie, M/M, On the Run, POV Third Person Omniscient, Post-Movie(s), Undercover, car racing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-09-30
Updated: 2006-04-01
Packaged: 2017-10-19 23:22:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 88,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/206339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwyneth/pseuds/gwyneth%20rhys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dom is forced to ask Brian for help when the consequences of his crimes come back to haunt him. A novel about love, loss, and redemption.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Vanishing Point

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently when this imported, many of the section breaks were not retained, and I apologize. It's a little beyond my ability to edit right now, since I can't get the pages to accept me adding them no matter what I do. I know it makes this difficult to read, and I really apologize.
> 
> My lovely cover art is by m'lyn.

 

  

> **Don't it feel like you're a rider**  
>  **on a downbound train**

 

Every time Sgt. Tanner hit the table with his fist, Brian O'Conner twitched. This was not a great day for loud noises. At this point, all Brian could hear was the pounding, anyway, because he'd long since tuned out the words. The minute-hand on the clock was moving backwards, he could swear, just like in that movie. This was the longest afternoon he'd ever experienced and it didn't look to be ending anytime soon, especially not with Special Agent Bilkins probably waiting outside the interrogation room ready to pounce on the fresh kill. Charges from pissed off feds would be a lot worse than Tanner's foaming at the mouth.

When the room went silent, though, he looked up at Tanner's grimacing face. "Are you even listening to me?" he asked with such coldness it made the hair on Brian's neck stand up. It was always worse when they got icy.

"Yeah, I'm listening. I just don't know what you want me to do about it." _Lame_. Not exactly a believable response; of course he wasn't listening. Instead he was thinking about Dominic Toretto and whether he'd gotten away someplace safe, and about Mia Toretto and where she would be questioned.

Tanner sat down opposite him, hands on the desk, leaning forward. "You haven't heard a word I've said. What was the last thing you did hear?" For a cop, Tanner didn't swear a lot; he liked to reserve that for the really important things. Brian was waiting for him to start swearing.

Brian rolled his head around on his shoulders. He'd kill for some water right now, but knew better than to ask. They'd been in this stupid room for almost an hour. "The shooting. You were talking about me shooting Johnny Tran." Tanner glared. "It was a righteous shoot, Sarge. You can't tell me I'm gonna get busted for nailing a guy who just killed someone in a drive-by." _Because, I mean, there's so much else to bust me for._

"You _are_ going to get busted. For a lot, Brian." Tanner's voice was so calm it spooked Brian out. "But IAD gets to sort out the shooting. _I_ get to sort out this fucking mess with Toretto." He wiped a hand over his face. "How do I explain that you let him go? The feds are going to crucify us. You blew months' worth of work."

Brian had desperately tried to come up with some kind of story that would sound logical, like he'd been overpowered, or that Dom had already had the keys, or _something_. But you didn't have to be Einstein to know that no one came out of a car wreck like that able to overpower a perfectly healthy -- if a little banged-up from a run-in with a crazed shotgun-wielding trucker -- trained police officer. Yeah. Right. So he just hadn't said much of anything at all during the hours they stood there in the broiling sun sorting out the accident scene. At least they hadn't forced him to go back to the Torettos' house and deal with that. Tanner had obviously begun to mentally fill in the blanks when he'd asked him if it was because of Mia -- did he let Dom go to protect her? To get the money? Something else? Brian couldn't admit that he hadn't really thought of Mia much at all by that point. That he'd acted on instinct -- bad instinct -- hoping to give Dom a fighting chance not to end up back at Lompoc, or worse. It had all been about Dom by then.

Just as Tanner was going to launch into another list of possible charges -- something he'd already done twice since they'd picked him up at the accident scene -- there was a knock on the one-way glass. Tanner left for a few minutes; when he came back, he was wearing a kind of sick, bitter smile, which Brian knew was all for him.

Tanner had hand-picked him for the street-racing assignment. It made Brian mildly queasy thinking about how much he'd let him down, the opportunity Tanner had given him that had been thrown right back in his face. They'd met shortly after Brian had started at that precinct, when Tanner had been impressed with how he'd handled the discovery of a double homicide during what had seemed like a routine burglary call. He hadn't remembered talking about anything personal at all, but apparently Tanner remembered enough about him that when he was looking for an undercover guy young enough to fit in that world, he asked Brian. In the early days he'd grown to like Tanner's fatherly style and droll, dry humor, but he especially enjoyed the way Tanner treated Bilkins with suspicion and annoyance for pulling rank all the time once the FBI had moved in. He'd been protective of Brian, understanding, but that had all evaporated when Tanner had seen the results of the recent disaster. Story of Brian's life: letting down the ones who cared about him.

When he came back into the room, Tanner couldn't help smirking. The bad news made him feel vindicated to some degree, and right now that felt just a little too good to play down. He'd never been so disappointed by a subordinate before, never watched someone he was trying to mentor throw all his hard work away like it was so much dog shit, so any way he could punish O'Conner right now made him feel just that little bit better.

Brian watched him cautiously. He was stained with blood, filthy with sweat and dirt and oil. Tanner wanted to feel sorry for him, but this was such a fuck-up, he couldn't quite bring himself to let go of his hostility. Brian was still just a kid, but Tanner had thought a much a smarter kid than he'd shown himself to be today. Suspension, internal investigations, the FBI riding Brass to fire everyone involved... it couldn't really get much worse.

Tanner sighed. "Your pal Toretto drove off the side of the highway, passed out at the wheel. They've taken him to County and he is now officially under arrest. And that nice car we bought for you is recovered. Lucky you. Now we can find out what really happened, since you're not exactly being forthcoming."

Brian put his head in his hands. "Is he all right?" His voice was muffled by his arms, but Tanner thought he sounded scared.

"That's your first concern? Jesus, Brian, we're talking about a felon and ex-con you aided and abetted. Once he starts answering questions, do you have any idea what this means?"

"Yeah, I know. Is he all right?" Brian raised his head and glared.

Tanner shook his head. "I don't know. Judging by everything that happened today, I can't even figure out how the hell he's walking around." He slapped some papers down in front of the kid and said, "Your suspension. IAD will be contacting you. You'll need representation; this has the details." All he could do now was hope that this wouldn't hit the newspapers and that Brian would keep his cool. Assuming, of course, that he didn't just quit.

"Gee, Sarge, I'd give you my shield and my gun for dramatic effect, but they already took 'em."

"Don't be a wise-ass. That's not going to help you right now. My advice to you is to spend some of your downtime thinking about what you want to do."

"Does that mean I'm free to go?"

Tanner considered that for a moment. He felt like being cruel. Then he smiled, and said, "Let's take a little ride, shall we?"

When he'd first woken up and realized he was in an exam room at a hospital, Dom knew that he was well and truly fucked. That would mean he'd been pulled in and there were probably cops involved. All of it -- the Trans, Jesse, the insane video-game nightmare with Vince and the trucker, Brian -- would be there attached to his sheet. The nurse hadn't wanted to say anything, but he could tell by the look in her eye when she placed the IV that she'd been told he was dangerous. There was a shadowy uniformed cop at the edge of the door guarding the room. What was he going to do, get up and walk out with a concussion that made him see triple and injuries severe enough that they were discussing surgery? They took him for a CT scan and X-rays. Then he passed out again. By the time he woke he was in a regular room, things beeping steadily near his head, the door closed tightly and no one else in the bed next door.

Severe flank bruising and damage to the kidneys, cracked ribs, a concussion with swelling in the brain. At least they didn't have to operate, they said. The dislocated shoulder throbbed, but at least it wasn't broken, though they said there was a tiny bone in the wrist that was probably fractured and if it didn't heal right, it could make his hand next to useless. So they'd slapped a cast on his wrist and it itched like hell, as did the gash on his scalp. The needle in his hand was already driving him crazy. It could have been much worse: If it hadn't been for the racing roll-cage, he'd have been toast. The doctor made as to how he couldn't believe Dom was walking around at all.

He drifted in and out of consciousness. Wasn't the rule supposed to be that you didn't sleep if you had a concussion because you might not wake up? But they woke him regularly and asked him questions; at least, semi-woke him, because he wasn't sure he was all the way there. His first thought each time he did wake up was of Mia, and it filled him with a kind of panicked fear. Would they call her if he was under arrest to let her know he was here? Dom wanted to talk to the cop, but he could not make his voice work right; the drugs dried his mouth and throat, and he couldn't seem to get control of his mental state.

Then, inevitably when he thought of Mia, he thought of Brian as well. Calling himself Officer Brian O'Conner. The truth spilling out in front of them as ugly and dark as Vince's blood. Handing Dom the keys to the Supra. None of it made sense. His stomach clenched remembering Vince, Jesse's body in his arms, Letty's face as she said good-bye and drove away with Leon. She hated him, he'd thought then. You could only truly hate someone if you'd loved them and they'd hurt you.

When he finally came to all the way and felt nearly human again, the nurse told him there were three men waiting to see him, and she opened the door for them: one a tall, heavy-set black man, the other shorter, white, with glasses and a goatee. And behind them was Brian, not looking at him. Brian caked with blood and dirt and dust, all of it streaked from sweat.

The white guy spoke first. "Nice of you to join us, Mr. Toretto."

Dom didn't speak. Figured it was best not to say anything without a lawyer, and anyway, if he squeaked out words in his less than functional voice, it would be too humiliating.

"I'm Sergeant Tanner from LAPD, and this is Special Agent Bilkins of the FBI. I think you know why we're here." Dom just stared past his shoulder at Brian. "I'm the one who was running the undercover op that put Officer O'Conner in your orbit." He said it with a kind of knowing look, a hint of a challenge. The guy was used to dealing with thugs like him; he had his style down pat.

Bilkins looked like he was one mean motherfucker -- all business and no pleasure. Guys like that were familiar to him; they seemed average on the outside, but inside they were sharp steel. Dom knew he was going down, big time. Except they wouldn't be here talking to him if there wasn't something on offer. Brian's stupid hopeful look told him as much, too.

"We're interested in who fenced the stolen merchandise for you. There are only a few people we know of who can handle that kind of weight and have that many distribution channels. Maybe you have some information you'd like to share."

Dom smiled bitterly and cleared his throat. "What'll it get me? You must already have something you're looking for." Just those few words tired him out.

"You're not really in a position to bargain," Bilkins said, annoyed. "None of your friends are, either. The ones who are still alive, anyway."

That was a sucker punch to his already wrecked kidneys. Dom turned away. "Tell me what's going on."

Tanner stepped forward. "Your friend Vince is in critical condition at East County. Jesse's dead. Your two other pals are gone, but there's an APB on them, and unless they're already out of state, we'll find them eventually. That leaves your sister, who--" he looked at his watch "-- should be in for some serious questioning right about now."

"She doesn't know anything!" Dom shouted, trying to get up but making no progress whatever. The room went spinning. Fuck.

"Hopefully she's got more sense than you do. I don't expect you to have the money sitting around in a conveniently accessible bank account. I'd wager most of it went into your shop and your cars. But you're not in a position to bargain, especially not when it comes to your sister being charged as an accomplice. So either you deal, or she goes deeper in the shit, do you understand?"

"If I deal, I'm dead."

"Well, you should've thought of that when you had the chance. This is a serious chunk of change we're talking about here, Toretto. You're a federal criminal now. I'm just here out of tolerance." Tanner didn't look at Bilkins, but he imagined what the Fed must look like to Toretto. Everything was worse when you were in federal territory, and a guy like Bilkins got a little too much pleasure when someone was lost in his territory. So many emotions flickered across Toretto's face now -- fear, panic, sadness -- and Tanner watched how he was reacting to Brian. Kept looking over at him as if expecting something, then looking away with the bitterness of knowing he wouldn't get it.

Behind him Brian fairly vibrated with nerves. It had stopped being fun when they'd arrived at the hospital and Bilkins had laid into him with icy calm, dropping the litany of failures and crimes on the kid's head as if he'd helped crucify Christ. Didn't really spare anything for Tanner, either, and it had been a rough time getting Bilkins to let him participate. On a good day the FBI didn't tolerate the local boys; this hadn't been a good day.

Tanner gestured at Bilkins and said to Toretto, "Maybe Brian can explain the situation so you understand it more clearly. Since you're... friends and all." At first Bilkins wasn't moving, but then he grudgingly followed. Bilkins didn't even want the fence, not really. He wanted whoever was at the top, and if there was even the slightest foothold to be gained by using Toretto, then he would. Or Brian.

Brian had a moment of panic as they left the room. This was not what he had in mind. He stood there dumbly for a while, listening to the gentle beeping of the machine. "I thought you'd get away. I didn't realize you were hurt that bad."

Dom turned his face toward the window.

"Look, Dom... if you help them, they can help you. Tanner's a hardass but he's a good guy. He'll do what he can. The feds, they're not so giving. So deal with him. At least ask them to drop the APB on Letty and Leon, that's something. They won't hurt Mia, I swear."

Still Dom didn't look at him or say anything. His mouth was drawn tight, and Brian flashed on the field, the way Dom had stared at him with such a sense of betrayal and despair and rage in his eyes. In Brian's family emotions were always held in check and you were safer if you didn't let anyone see you hurt. It was so weird to see how emotional -- and unafraid of showing it -- Dom was. How helpless he must feel, unable to protect Mia. Knowing he'd been the one to do this to her.

Brian touched Dom's arm, but Dom jerked it away, the little tubes snapping all around. "Brian." His voice was flat and hollow. Finally Dom turned his head, except he looked at the wall, not at Brian's face. "Get out."

Brian stood there helplessly. He thought he'd made it up to Dom and to Mia, that however betrayed they felt, they would still have to admit that Brian had helped them. Probably saved Vince's life. But Dom wouldn't even look at him. It was useless. He was useless.

Brian left the room and Tanner and Bilkins returned. "That didn't go well, I take it?" Bilkins said. Dom didn't bother answering.

"The fence isn't the one you want."

Tanner grinned. "No, he's not. Well, we'd like to take him down, too, but we're really interested in who's above him."

"This guy... my fence, he's big time. Moves a lot of high-end shit. But the guy he's selling to has weight."

"Do you have a name?"

Dom just barked out a harsh laugh, which sent a shockwave of pain through his ribs and made his head swim.

"I'll tell you what," Bilkins said, smooth as silk. Dom was really beginning to hate this guy. "I'll give you a couple days to think about it, since you're not running on all cylinders. But while you're thinking about it, remember two words: Pelican Bay."

He glared at Tanner, because he, at least, seemed reasonable. "If I do this, I want something."

"What's that?" His smirk was infuriating.

"You call off the bloodhounds on the rest of my team. You keep my sister out of this. And you pull my package. All of it. And Vince's. The slate is cleaned."

Tanner just cocked his head and smiled. Oily bastard. But Dom got the sense that he was willing to deal if he could get something out of this mess and make his position respectable again. Bilkins he wasn't so sure of. A pound of flesh wouldn't satisfy someone like that.

Brian stood at the door while they walked out, and glanced back in at Dom. He'd saved Vince's life... maybe he'd saved all of their lives and had tried to save Jesse's. That made it harder to let go of. The look on Brian's face said the same thing Dom was thinking: _I'm sorry._ But so what? That didn't get you anywhere. They were all sorry. Then Brian said quietly, his gaze fixed sadly on Dom, "It wasn't all a lie." He turned and walked away.

Dom's head ached with the strain of all the conversation and the moving around. He drifted in half-sleep until the nurse came in, a guy this time, and told him they were sending him up for another CT scan. Shit, what a nightmare. He tried not to get anxious when they put him in the machine again, but he was claustrophobic since prison, and an eely panic squirmed in his stomach. The cracked ribs and chest bruises made holding his breath an agony, but it hurt to breathe, too. Finally they took him back to his room, the guard placing himself back in position. He drifted off again.

The dream was mixed up, his dad's crash and his own. He was in the Charger but at the track where his dad died, driving his race. Only it wasn't Linder clipping him but Brian. When he hit the wall as his father had, he saw Brian's face: that same look of satisfaction, just like after they'd beat the train, before he'd crashed. They just smiled at each other like they were... complete. Then his car exploded around him.

When he woke the next morning -- or maybe it was afternoon -- he thought about the dream. About that moment when he'd seen Brian smile as if they understood each other. In that sliver of time everything had been forgotten and they just were. The future and the past didn't matter. So why did it suddenly matter _now_ that Brian was a cop? Something about Brian had drawn Dom from the beginning, but now he couldn't seem to get past the betrayal of his trust. Yet Brian had trusted him enough to try to save him. Must have thought Dom was better than he really was to risk everything like that. But forgiveness was so foreign to him now, after Lompoc, after everything he'd lost.

Why had the Mod Squad dragged Brian here to talk to him? What did they think he would gain them? The way he'd looked... so beaten down yet so weirdly hopeful. All Dom could do was shut him out, and now he wondered how much of that was merely self-preservation and how much his anger at being deceived. He'd already let Brian in too far.

_It wasn't all a lie_.

There wasn't much choice about Tanner's offer. Give up the names, probably try to testify against them. Probably get killed, too; no one liked a snitch. Dom had learned to live his life in the now and never think too far ahead because you couldn't depend on things happening the way you planned. Only by not planning he'd nearly got his team killed, and probably would get himself killed because of who he'd chosen to get mixed up with. Chosen for all of them, and they'd been okay with that, because Dom always made the decisions.

His head felt better now, clearer. The steroids reduced the swelling; the aches from the bruising and the sharp pain in his left arm wouldn't be going away for a while, though. His chest hurt, but it wasn't from the bruising. He needed Mia here now, he needed to hold on to Letty and know that things would be all right for everyone still left.

Except that things wouldn't be right ever again. Did Brian even still have his job? How could he, if they knew he had let Dom go? Dom had been so angry that he hadn't even considered what Brian could lose in all of this. He knew so little about Brian's real life, even though he felt like he knew Brian, as if he'd always been part of Dom's world. Now it was all past the vanishing point.

They brought him food, gave him more tests, and the day passed slowly. They must be preventing calls, because he knew Mia would not stop until she could get hold of him. As betrayed as he'd felt at Brian's identity, he knew that much was true -- nothing would happen to Mia, not if Brian had anything to say about it. He was a stubborn shit when he got hold of something.

Under everything that went through his mind, though, was the inescapable certainty of prison again. If he talked, he was dead; if he didn't, he'd probably die anyway, because the idea of living behind bars again... any prison was bad enough, but if Pelican Bay wasn't an idle threat, it would be better to take his chances with the Armenian. A pissed-off high-level fence was one thing, but when you started talking to the FBI to help them bring down someone like Gregory, you might as well just ask for the double-tap to the back of the head.

Dom didn't know who to be more pissed at -- himself for getting caught, for starting the whole fucking mess in the first place, or Brian for letting him go. As if Brian could somehow have gotten in the car with him and driven away someplace safe like Mexico. Even another state.

He slept again in the evening, the television droning on in the background. He was more comfortable now that they'd taken some of the things out of and off of him, but the cast still drove him nuts. Dom wondered if they'd made the news. Probably not; the cops would want to keep that quiet.

Close to midnight the nurse came in, the guy who'd been there the night before. They must have figured that it would take a guy to be able to lift him. He had long dreads tied back, light black skin, and kept the conversation to a minimum, which Dom had appreciated. But now he had a panicky look on his face.

"We're not supposed to put calls through to you," he said. "But there's a woman on the phone says she's your sister and... she sounds hysterical. Really upset. Look, don't tell the cop outside, okay?"

His heart was pounding and he tried to sit up. The nurse helped him and raised the bed, then brought the phone over to him. "I'll go put it through."

"Thanks, man," Dom said. "I owe you, big." He wondered if Mia had just finally lost it and let loose that famous Toretto temper on some poor unsuspecting switchboard person, or if Brian had fucked up again and they were doing more than just questioning her as a homicide witness.

He picked up the phone before the first ring had finished. "Mia, what's--"

"Dom!" She really was hysterical, her voice squealy and loud. "Dom! They took me. They came and took me out of our _house_! They say you betrayed them, that you're narc--" Then she was gone. He couldn't feel his lungs working or his heart beating. Everything inside him had gone numb.

Abruptly a male voice came on the line. "We haven't done anything with her yet. Consider it an insurance policy. You don't betray Mr. Gregory without paying a price, do you understand?" For a second Dom had the bizarre urge to laugh; the way the guy had said "Mr. Gregory" in his smooth Eurotrash-accented voice made it sound like he was talking about a hairdresser. But he knew these guys and how deadly serious they were.

"I haven't said a fucking word. I'm not _gonna_. You don't have to do this." He tried to keep his voice low and calm. If he lost his temper he could cost Mia her life, but he had to avoid sounding defensive or afraid. They would eat him alive if they thought he was weak.

"Not only did you fail to deliver on your last job, you got arrested. A lot of money was invested in you, but you haven't paid back with your final load. If you've spoken about this to the police..."

"I haven't! She doesn't have anything to do with this--"

"You might have thought about all that before you made business deals you couldn't keep. You know the price." The phone went dead.

He closed his eyes. Dom could still hear her screaming from the porch, "It's over!" before the sound of motorcycles drowned her out and bullets started flying. He had ignored her pleas, rejected her every time she tried to stop him, and now she was paying the price for his fuck-up. He stared at the phone in his hand, unable to breathe, sweating, panicked. What the fuck was he supposed to do? Dom thought he might pass out; his head swam with voices and images and sounds.

Eventually he put the phone down and called for the nurse. When he came in, he still had that scared look on his face, but Dom tried turning on the charm as best he could. It was an act he had down pat from all the nights of racing; he'd learned to play to the crowd and turn it up as high as it could go if he sensed they were against him.

"I know you're not supposed to help me, but I need your help, bad. My sister... they have my sister."

The guy did a good job of not showing that he was probably freaking out about the dangerous criminal begging him for something.

"Just this once, please. One of the cops who came here today... I need his number."

Brian almost didn't recognize his own apartment. He hadn't been here for a couple months; the neighbor who'd collected his mail and taken care of the place had left everything in a bag by the door, which he promptly stumbled over on his way in. It was dark and musty and smelled bad, so he opened windows and turned on lights. The place looked pathetic, but at least it was roomier than the little closet he'd had at Harry's while on UC. There was nothing in the fridge, of course, and probably not much worth eating in the cupboard, so he went straight for the shower. The water sputtered on and he yanked off his sweat-and-blood-grunged clothes. As he did, Brian caught sight of himself in the mirror -- a huge bruise ran down his left side from where he'd hit the truck; another colored his hip and side from his leap back to the car. Both his arms and wrists ached, and his hands were mildly swollen. None of the physical injuries were as bad as he felt inside, though.

He let it pour over him, hot almost to scalding. Arms out, pressed against the tile, head down, water running from his hair in a river. Red and brown and black swirling down the drain, but not washing from his mind at all. Everything he'd lost going with it, and he could sense the inchoate sob rising up from somewhere so deep inside him he didn't even know its name. There was a point past where you lost so much you didn't even know how to have or to want. Years ago he'd given up ever wanting anything, until he met the Torettos and then he'd wanted it, oh, he'd wanted it so much and this was your punishment for the having. For not remembering you didn't deserve to have anything. He'd wanted that detective shield too, and now that vanished down the drain along with the blood and dirt.

Brian squeezed his eyes shut, willed himself not to give in to tears of loss or tears of rage. Didn't matter which, just that he couldn't let it out because once he started he wouldn't stop. He'd made the decisions knowing the consequences. No one else had thrown it away for him. You pays your money and you takes your chances, his mother once said. Finally he got himself under control, stopped shaking. He soaped off the grime and then scrubbed himself raw, as if he could scour off everything from the inside as well. In church when he was a kid they'd talked about that -- people scourging themselves to purify their souls. Brian couldn't imagine anything purifying his soul now; too far gone once you hit vanishing point.

As he toweled off Brian found himself thinking not of Mia, but of Dominic. Not how he'd been in the hospital, so broken and lifeless, but the way he'd looked at him from the Charger just after they'd crossed in front of the train. Something knowing, confident, even after everything that had just happened between them. As if the deceit didn't matter in that one shared moment of joy. Brian would never have a chance to see Dom like that again, to know what he meant when he said he was free for just those few seconds in a car.

He wasn't sure he could sleep despite his exhaustion, didn't believe he could eat anything either, but at least going out to get food would take his mind off petty details. The store was nearly empty and he walked through it like he was sleepwalking, tossing random things in a basket without paying attention. It was as if his mind was utterly blank from the numbness. He looked at the newspaper as he left the store, wondered if there was anything about the truckers or the accident buried in the local news section. But he couldn't bring himself to buy it and look. He knew everything he needed to know.

At home he forced himself to eat a bowl of cereal, then turned the TV on to flip randomly around channels. Before he knew it, he was falling asleep.

When he woke the bowl was tipped over on the floor, milk soaked into the carpet, and his face was crisscrossed with sofa cushion marks. Light from the window spilled hotly across his body. The clock said it was already afternoon; he felt sticky and weak. Every bone and muscle in his body screamed in agony when he got up; his head throbbed with the worst headache he could ever remember. Even the most debilitating hangover couldn't compare to this. Brian gobbled some aspirin with codeine from his last trip to Mexico, then hit the shower again.

When he finished cleaning up himself and the apartment he had no idea what to do next. Go out to a bar to get shit-faced and try to forget about it all? Look up Mia Toretto and try to explain? Go get the Supra out of impound and check it out? What would that prove, anyway? That he was keeping it just in case Dom got out, like some sentimental chick? If he went to see Mia, she'd just backhand him across the face and spit on him. He wanted to talk to her and make sure she was okay, that the questioning had been endurable. She'd need help to deal with Jesse's death, but he didn't think she'd take it. Not from Brian O'Conner, cop, liar, deceiver, user.

Anyway, wasn't he supposed to be thinking about his future? Planning for his crucifixion by IAD? If he had never been glad to not have a family before, he was now. The humiliation and shame of everything he'd done would be too much to bear.

This time he felt hungrier so he scrambled some eggs and dumped in a large handful of shredded cheese. Mia would have been appalled by his lack of cooking skills; Dom had teased him enough as it was just in the few weeks they'd known each other. In the Toretto family, being able to boil water and scramble eggs was something a five-year-old could do. Brian picked at his food, though, and only ate about half of it, chasing it down with a beer. There were a million things he should be doing instead of sitting here feeling sorry for himself, not the least of which was making sure he had enough to live on for the next few months while he ostensibly had no job. The only friends he had anymore were fellow cops, and they wouldn't have anything to do with him now, he knew that. There weren't many places for him to turn to.

But he couldn't bring himself to do much of anything, or care that he wasn't doing anything. Tanner had said Brian didn't have the right priorities -- that worrying about Dom and Mia was foolish or worse. But that was all he could think of; logic didn't really have anything to do with this, hadn't since the moment he'd locked eyes with Dominic in the store. Sometimes, Brian had learned, you could identify a moment when everything changed; it was like a crackle of electricity or a ripple of sound in the air. Tanner couldn't understand why he'd been so willing to screw it all up; there was no way to describe that sense of everything changing and how amazing it had felt to him. Letting himself go crazy, letting himself shed a lifetime of control and detachment. The first race had been that way, too. Even with his car pouring smoke he'd felt more alive than ever before. It scared him to know he might never feel like that again.

Brian fell asleep in front of the television once more, but in the middle of the night he was jolted awake when his cell phone rang shrilly. Fumbling for it, he finally answered just as the ringing stopped. He didn't recognize the number. Downtown area code, which bothered him for some reason. Then it rang again, so he answered with the hesitation of one who really didn't want to hear what was coming.

"Brian." Dom's voice. Strained and wired.

"Dom. What... how did you get my number?" What an asinine question. But he was so stunned he didn't know what else to say.

"I need your help."

A small, petty part of him wanted to remind Dom that he'd just told him to get out with a clear implication to never come back again. "What's happened?"

"I can't tell you on the phone. Please." Brian sat up and rubbed his face. Dom sounded... afraid. Something he'd never heard from him before.

"I'll be right there."

They didn't exactly allow visitors in the wee hours of the morning, and Brian had a bitch of a time just getting past security and up to the right floor. The guard outside Dom's door was even harder; without the shield he was no one, but after a while he managed to convince the guy that they were playing on the same team.

When he entered the room Dom was sitting up in bed, looking pretty damn bad, like he was having a hard time just doing that much.

"What is it?" Brian asked without any greeting. He didn't think they were suddenly on good terms just because Dom wanted help.

"They have her. The guy at the end of this thing... he kidnapped Mia."

Brian felt his insides twist and everything he'd eaten earlier now threatened to come up. "Is she alive?" The cop instinct took over, though, just like it had in the field with Vince. "Did you talk with her? Was it long enough that they could get a location from the phone records?"

"Less than a minute. She talked, she was hysterical. Insurance. She's insurance if I haven't talked, revenge if I have." Dom's voice was tense, his face twisted with pain. "This guy doesn't fuck around. You have to get me out of here."

"And what? You're gonna save her by gimping around and falling over?"

Dom didn't even have the strength to shout _fuck you_ at him, but he was thinking about it. What could he expect, though, after what he'd said to the guy before? Brian looked like he'd been run over a couple times himself; his face was pale and drawn.

"Dom, listen to me. You can't do anything by yourself even if you were all right. You have to tell me what's going on so I can get help."

"She called me and screamed about how someone had come into the house and taken her. Then one his crew came on and told me I shouldn't have fucked it up and gotten arrested. It's their money that fronted the cars. I swore I hadn't talked, but I don't think he believed me. Said he was keeping her as insurance."

"Fuck." Brian wiped a hand across his face. Dom tried again to get out of the bed but it was like his legs had been replaced with rubber. "How long ago?"

"About a half hour before I called you." It had been because Brian was a cop that Vince was alive at all, that all of them hadn't been killed. Now he was counting on something that Brian probably didn't even have anymore, needed something Brian might not be able to give him.

"Do you know where she might be? Do you think they'll hurt her?"

"Not right now. He'd take her somewhere hard to find. He doesn't get anything out of it if... if anything happens to her. If he did, he'd have killed her by now." Dom found it hard to control his voice. The idea of something happening to Mia was almost too much for him to imagine; it was abstract, something he felt emotionally but couldn't grasp in his mind.

"Who's _he_?"

"His name's Gregory. Most of the time they call him the Armenian." He sat up and took a deep breath. "Look, while we're standing here yapping--"

Brian punched a finger in the air. "Don't fucking start with me, Toretto. This is my job, which I used to be pretty good at until I got mixed up with you. I need to know what the score is so I can figure out what to do next."

"He's bad news, that's all you gotta know." Dom glared at him, and Brian felt such anger that he wasn't sure he shouldn't just turn around and go home.

"I'm calling Tanner."

Predictably, Dom freaked, tearing the sheet and blanket off, struggling to get out of bed. Brian held him back, trying to calm him down, which was at least made easier by his complete incapacitation.

After a few minutes of tussling, Dom gave up and sat back, looking like he was going to throw up. Brian took the opportunity to punch Tanner's number on the cell.

It took some serious salesmanship but he agreed to come down to the hospital. Now all Brian had to do was keep Dom still until he got there -- if he remembered right, the sergeant lived near Manhattan Beach, so it would take a while. Fortunately Dom was still so wrecked that he couldn't keep up much fuss.

"I need clothes," Dom said, eyes closed.

"I'll get 'em."

"Wheels."

"Yeah. But you're not driving them, Mr. Magoo."

"I can see just fine."

"You mean when you can raise your head from the pillow?"

"You're talking like you're willing to get me out of here."

"I am. You gotta trust me on this. But you come on heavy, you'll never get anywhere. Tanner's got no love lost for Bilkins and the FBI. Play into that, we can work it to our advantage."

"I'm an ex-con."

Brian sat quietly for a while, watching Dom's chest rise and fall with his tense breaths. He felt so sorry for the guy, seeing someone so strong and powerful reduced to asking for favors from someone he hated, stuck in a bed like an invalid. "Is this guy gonna work her?"

"I don't know," Dom said with such resigned sadness that Brian felt his heart crack.

"You got pretty worked over yourself," Dom said eventually. "Was it from the jump?"

"Yeah, some. I think I'm going to be seeing that in my nightmares for a long time to come." He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but Dom talking to him like they were good was not it.

"Took some major cojones. I know I haven't said thank you but... you saved Vince's life, and I know you tried to save Jesse's, too. I know that."

Brian just waved a hand. "Tran's dead." He didn't know any other way than to just say it.

"I wondered. How?"

"I shot him."

Dom sat up again, and stared at Brian. He'd thought maybe a wipeout on the bike, hit by a car... not that, though. He felt sick, but this time it wasn't from his injuries. "Brian, I..."

"Don't."

He'd learned that much about the kid right away -- that any kind of sympathy or support rubbed him the wrong way. Dom could understand it being a point of pride that he could take care of himself, but sometimes he thought Brian carried it a little too far. Almost a crazy sort of self-reliance, weirdly closed off for such an outgoing guy.

"It's done."

"They suspend you? Or worse?" He didn't imagine that Brian had ever killed anyone, let alone shot at anyone, before. He must have been really struggling with it.

"Both." Brian looked away, those spooky pale blue eyes staring off in the middle distance. For the first time Dom really found himself understanding what Brian had done. He'd given up his own life because he liked Dom's just a little too much. And here he was, willing to throw that life away on him yet again.

Finally Tanner arrived, saving them from something, Dom wasn't sure what, but it felt charged and too emotional. Maybe it was the beginning of forgiveness.

He listened as Brian told Tanner the story and wasn't the least bit surprised when Tanner lost it. He tuned out the arguing until they got to the part about Mia.

"It's a federal crime, Brian. You cannot take it on yourself to find a kidnapping victim. That's the FBI's job."

"They can't move in this world, not like we can."

From his bed Dom said, "They don't know Brian's a cop."

"Well, that's very helpful, Toretto." Tanner was practically humming with a righteous anger. "It makes all the difference in the world."

Brian rubbed his face, trying not to lose his temper but not doing a great job of it. "Look, Sarge. We're already in this world. They'll expect Dom to do something. If a bunch of suits start knocking on people's doors, they'll disappear so fast we'll never get her back. The FBI doesn't fit in this world, but we do."

"Exactly what world are we talking about? Name names or this conversation goes no further." He glared at Dom.

"The fence is Alberto Castelano. But you probably already knew that. He's more like a broker, sells the merchandise to a specific list of buyers. He'll go to ground though, and won't want to come out till the coast is clear. This could cause him big trouble."

"And who exactly is moving the merchandise that you stole and he brokered, then?"

Dom sighed heavily. "Tony Gregory."

Tanner erupted. "The Armenian? You're mixed up with the Armenian? You really are as stupid as you look, Toretto."

Dom didn't really have a lot to say to that. He'd known going in that it was dangerous, that you didn't just walk in and walk out. But the deal had been too good, and after prison an offer to grab enough money to leave this life behind and do whatever he wanted had been too good to pass up.

"Who the fuck is the Armenian?" Brian barked. "What are we talking about here?"

Tanner stared angrily at Dom, then turned his attention to Brian. "Tony Gregory, came to this country as Grigorian or something like that when he was a kid. Americanized his name and bought a video store when VCRs first came out. He made enough to build himself a little audio-video empire, got into the distribution end in the porn industry and now fancies himself something of a media mogul. He thinks he's going to be the next Harvey Weinstein or something, keeps trying to work his way into film by funding bad low-budget movies. And basically gets most of his money by selling stolen goods, drugs, and a lot of other things. Best of all, he's a freaking psychotic. The FBI and the DEA have been trying to bust him for years; we've connected him to dozens of murders and can't touch him. I don't want to think how many people he's got in his pocket and so he walks away unscathed every time we get close."

Brian looked like he was going to be sick, but he braved it out. "Then all the more reason to let us do the dirty work here. You guys can't get into his system, but we're already there." Dom was amused by the "we" Brian insisted on using.

"He eats small-time crooks like they were candy. You're just an inconvenience to him."

Dom said, "No, I'm not. He cares enough about what I know -- and what I could get Castelano to say -- to kidnap my sister!" He knew his shouting was not going to earn points with Tanner, but he couldn't control it.

Brian stepped in again. "A week. Let us out of here, and give us a week. We can find him. We have to."

"And just say I'm stupid enough to do this. What guarantees do I have?"

"You have my word. I have to make this right, don't I? This way I can. I know I fucked up, seriously fucked up. But let me do this and we can get Mia back in one piece, bring down this Gregory guy, and get you all kinds of gold stars. Let us try."

"Do you have any idea how dangerous this kind of thing is even to experienced UC people? If he trips to you..."

"You'll know where we are. If he thinks Dom's escaped custody, then he won't be looking for us to make contact."

Tanner paced around the room, running his hands over his face, pulling on his chin. For a while Brian wasn't so sure he was going to go for it. He knew Tanner had a soft spot for him despite everything that had happened, and even though that had been challenged (or run totally into the dirt), Tanner still seemed to give him more room than any other commanding officer would for such a spectacular screw-up.

He almost thought of bringing up how pissed off Bilkins would be, but then thought better of it. That was pushing it too far and Tanner had a long fuse, but not that long. Finally he turned and stared at Brian. "One week. If you haven't gotten anywhere near her in one week, you're done. He goes back in custody. And if you do find Gregory, then you alert me -- you are not going in on your own. You'll be wired so heavy you'll be shitting static, do you get me?"

"Loud and clear, boss, really. You're in on it all the way, I swear."

Tanner leaned in and pointed a finger in Brian's face. "You held back on me before and that's what started this shitstorm. If you do anything like that again... if you lie, or withhold information, or lose contact, I will not lift a finger to try to save your ass, because I'll probably be busy getting fired."

"Got it."

He sighed. "What's your first step?"

"I get some stuff for him, come back, and it looks like we slipped custody. Lay low for a few days somewhere out inland. Then come back and start asking questions."

"May I remind you he is a convict? _No_ guns for him."

"Understood."

"I'm going to regret this."

"I promise you. I won't screw this up again." Brian almost laughed at his own earnestness. But somehow it felt that important -- a way to redeem himself to the cops, a way to redeem himself to Dom... the scary part was that a life hung in the balance over his redemption. He had to trust himself on this one, though, will himself to win this race. Visualize the win, Leon had told Jesse before it had all turned to crap.

Tanner shook his head. "Be careful." He said it to Brian, but did not look at Dom -- and Brian knew he meant it as a warning against Dom, too. Then he left, still shaking his head.

Brian turned to Dom. "I'll go get your stuff. Get ready to roll." He felt weirdly jazzed, adrenalined up and scared at the same time.

"Brian," Dom said in that low, gentle voice, the one he hadn't heard for a while. "Are you sure about this?"

He grinned. "Yeah. Trust me. This time you can trust me."

They drove out into the mountains, taking the highway up toward Big Bear. In high school he'd dated a girl who'd moved to Barstow from Idaho. She sneered at what they called mountains, telling him that "where I'm from, these are foothills." He had no idea where they were going, but he'd find a motel and a place to lie low. The nurse had given him some meds for Dom with the precaution that if his piss didn't turn the color of rosé soon, they needed to get him back pronto. Brian wasn't really looking forward to talking to Dom about that. And then he was supposed to wake Dom regularly to check his mental state, keep an eye on the bruises, and various other nurse things he hadn't the faintest clue about. At least he'd been kind enough to make a list with clear instructions; Brian was pretty sure the guy thought Dom was attractive and that's why he'd been willing to help.

He'd taken Dom's sizes and gone off to get him some clothes: the typical work pants Dom wore, a button-front shirt he could get on with the bad shoulder, some boots, all the rest of it. But when he was looking at the t-shirts it freaked Brian out to realize that he'd grabbed the dark blue v-neck because he thought Dom would look really good in it. _Not_ what he wanted to be thinking about right now... but it was true.

When he'd gotten back to the hospital, he'd had to help Dom struggle into the clothes. "At least this fetching black cast goes with everything," he'd said as he pulled the shirt over his shoulder, and Dom just made a noise in his throat that sounded distinctly like a growl. After watching Dom struggle with getting the pants on, Brian tried to help him. Dom slapped at his hands as he tried to haul him up; Brian had just grabbed him and said, "Don't be such a pussy. Give me your hand." He'd actually made Dom laugh with that, enough so they could finally get the trousers on. It embarrassed him to look at his body, to notice the smooth texture of Dom's skin, to feel a little electric jolt when he'd slid his hand over the top of Dom's hip. But Dom didn't seem to notice; if he did, he was either too polite or too loopy to care. He tried to move his arm, but the shoulder was killing him, so Brian forced him to wear the sling when they left.

Tanner had conveniently given them a window by calling the guard off for a few. They'd limped down to the parking garage, Dom's right arm slung over Brian's shoulder when he had to stop for a rest. Dom had laughed when he saw the beat-up old Corolla Brian was driving. Once they got out on the road, though, Dom got very serious and asked what the plan was.

"Like I told Tanner. We lay low, you heal up, and then we go back to town and start nosing around. If we're quiet for a few days, that will give word a chance to filter out to Gregory and your fence. It took a couple days for them to find out about you the first time, so we have to play it the same way now. Plus we have to wait for the fire to get put out once Bilkins explodes."

"I don't know if I can stand waiting around knowing..."

"You don't have a choice, Dom. You're in no condition to do this on your own, and you said yourself that you don't think he's going to hurt her."

"Yet."

He glanced over at Dom, who rested his bruised head on a rolled-up coat against the window. "We'll get her back. We will." Maybe he was just trying to convince himself. He'd never felt like such a hopeless failure before.

"What happened to you, anyway? I thought you were okay when I gave you the keys."

"I thought I was, too. But then I got this blinding headache. When I pulled over I couldn't see. Car skidded off the embankment a little and when I tried to get out, I passed out."

"Damn. I'm sorry." Brian wasn't sure what for, though -- that he'd let him go in that condition, or that he hadn't taken off with Dom himself.

The rest of the drive Dom would sleep and then wake with a jolt, off and on. No wonder his head wasn't getting better. They must look like a freak show, he thought when they stopped for food. His own bruises were fading to a pale violet and gold, but he still looked pretty thrashed.

At one point, when Brian thought he was asleep, Dom asked, "Was that the first time you ever shot anybody?"

"Yeah. First time I ever even drew my gun on someone was you."

"How long you been a cop?"

"About four years. Patrol. Tanner was the one who offered me the chance to do this undercover. Good way to earn your way to a detective shield. That won't happen now."

Dom didn't say anything again for a really long time. When he spoke, Brian could barely hear him. "It's hard to accept, killing someone. Or nearly killing them. Can really fuck someone up, even if it's in self-defense."

Brian just gazed out at the road.

Finally he found a motel nondescript and low-key enough to make a good stop. He got them a room with a kitchen and helped Dom inside. The bed sagged comically under Dominic's weight, and Brian helped him take off his boots and shirt, then pulled the covers over him. He'd never had the chance to take care of someone before, and it felt peculiarly comforting.

"How many fingers am I holding up?"

Dom scowled. "Just this one," he said, and held up his middle finger at Brian. "Stop treating me like a baby."

"Well, right now, you are, dumbass. Do you need some water or anything? Pills?"

"Just water."

Brian took a beat-up old glass out of the cupboard and ran the tap for a while. He'd need to get some bottled water, some toiletries and medical things, and of course, food.

"Where you going?" Dom asked groggily.

"Get some food, other stuff we need. Big boy like you, we gotta keep your strength up."

"Nothing left to keep up," he muttered, and fell asleep.

Brian wanted to say that he would take care of him, that everything would be all right, but he couldn't. Not now, anyway. But maybe he was on the way to making it all right.


	2. Hostages

> **I'm driving a stolen car on a pitch black night  
>  And I'm telling myself I'm gonna be all right  
>  But I ride by night and I travel in fear  
>  That in this darkness I will disappear**

 

 

Dom woke with a jolt, uncertain where he was and seized with an unfamiliar panic. Everything rushed at him with blinding speed: where he was, why he was here. The sense of dread underneath it all, he realized, was for Mia. But Brian was here, helping him... out for stuff, but he was here.

They were waiting for something, right, that was the plan, but now it was all a weird jumble of pain and tension and confusion. Already he'd forgotten what he'd tried so hard to focus on the day before. He struggled to get up; his head insisted on playing a marching band rhythm very loudly and aggressively inside his skull. More than anything he wanted a shower, but with the cast on that would be a bad idea. Taking a piss was like passing fire through his dick, but he was relieved that it was no longer the color of red wine. He remembered the nurse telling him something about that, that it would gradually get better -- unless it didn't, and then he was in real trouble. He saw the gash on his forehead in the mirror, the bruise that ran in a diagonal along the left side of his face.

Hobbling into the small kitchen, Dom gulped down glass after glass of stale, warm tap water. He couldn't remember what Brian had said about why they were holed up in a cheesy motel off the highway. Lay low, was all he remembered, until they know we're out. Oh yeah, give him time to heal, let the word get out. Meanwhile Vince was in the hospital, Mia was... god only knew where. Dom stared at the phone. That's what he needed to do -- call someone, the neighbors or someone else who'd know at least _something_. There was no good reason to wait around, to let themselves be fucked with. What the hell was he thinking, going along with this? There was a bag with some more clothes on Brian's bed, and he looked through it. A t-shirt, another pair of pants. Underwear, socks. He could leave, take everything with him.

But then... Dom remembered how Brian had helped him dress at the hospital, his casual remark about how if there was ever a good excuse for going commando, the way his hand slid along Dom's flank, the warmth of knuckles brushing against his stomach as Brian had buttoned Dom's pants. _Jesus_. What a thing to think of right now.

Helpless rage boiled up in him, spilling over, and Dom threw the glass against the wall. Just for the hell of it, he threw as much of the rest of the kitchen as he could find, too, except most of it was hard plastic and chintzy tin so it only made a loud clatter. The phone, however, made a satisfying shattering sound and the ringer gave off a dying bleat as it splintered into pieces. He was just about to throw an ancient lamp despite the pain that flared up in his shoulder when Brian came in.

It must be cop's instincts, was all he could think, as Brian leapt from the doorway to grab the lamp out of Dom's hand. He spun around, ready for a fight, but Brian just put the lamp down.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he asked between clenched teeth.

"Why are we sitting here? Why are we wasting time?" The rage was turning into a kind of hysteria now. Physical helplessness only amplified his emotions.

"We're not wasting time," Brian said evenly. He spoke in that clipped, cool voice they probably taught you in cop school: how to talk the violent criminals down, how to settle domestic disputes.

"You don't call this wasting time?" he shouted, and sent the bag of groceries Brian had set down flying off the table. Brian threw him a look that said "I don't believe you just did that." In a way, that actually made Dom happier. "We're running around like fucking tourists while my sister is in the hands of psychopaths."

Brian was ballsy, he had to give him that. The guy stood his ground, not flinching as Dom shouted or threw things. He just picked everything up and stared at Dom, hostile yet patient. When Dom got in his face, he expected Brian to step back; instead he shoved Dom down on the bed and pointed a finger in his face.

"The only way we can do Mia any favors is if we keep perspective. Either that or we turn this over to Bilkins and the Bureau boys, and do you really want to do that?"

"Brian, she could _die_." Dom ran his hand over his head. His voice sounded exactly like it had when he was pleading to go find Jesse, high and cracked and so very tired. But Brian wasn't going to let anything happen this time, not to someone Dom loved, ever again.

"Didn't you tell me that he wouldn't do anything to her?"

He leapt off the bed and pounded a fist against the cupboard. "What if I'm wrong? I have to explain that I let something happen to my sister while I sat around in a shit motel room out in the middle of nowhere?"

This time Brian figured he should try a different approach. He put his hands on Dom's shoulders and steered him back to the bed. When he sat down next to him, he let his hand rest on Dom's forearm. "Listen to me," he said in his best cop's voice. "We're going to get her back. By now, whoever found out about your arrest has also found out you skipped custody. Word will get out. Gregory will know you're not trying to narc him, and his only worry will be the job you didn't complete. _That_ we can deal with. You're just feeling trapped and all this shit -- " he rapped on the cast lightly " -- isn't helping. It's making it worse, because you're not the kind of guy who sits around and waits for others to do things. We do this one step at a time. We do what we have to do, what we can, and we take it slow and sure."

Dom glanced at him. It almost sounded like he was talking about a relationship, not a plan for rescuing someone who'd been kidnapped. He barked out a harsh, low laugh.

"When exactly are you planning to make this thing happen?"

"As soon as you can stand without looking like you just drank a fifth of JD. Which, I might add, you can't do right now." Brian patted his arm. "And? You really, really need a bath."

"Shower."

"No, bath. I didn't buy any plastic wrap, I forgot all about the cast and we have to cover that thing up. So bath. And then some food. I got some burgers and shit like that, bottled water. You've got a ways to go before you're up to speed. I'll go run the water. Oh, and I'm supposed to give you some pills."

Dom shook his head. Fucking nanny, was what Brian was. But he knew the guy was right -- he was acting on anger, instinct, pain. That had gotten him two years in Lompoc before; he had to prove that he'd moved on from that, especially since Mia's life hung in the balance. "I can take pills myself."

"I know that, dumbass. I'm just the one with all the schedules and the instructions." He stopped and glanced at Dom, eyes traveling from his face down along his body. There was something weirdly intimate about the look, it wasn't a regular glance at all. Like he knew something about Dom that Dom wouldn't want Brian to know.

He used the night table to lever himself up. The bad ribs made him gasp with pain. "Stop calling me dumbass."

"I will when you stop acting like one. Jesus, Toretto, how did you survive prison that long?" He grinned, though. Dom thought Brian might be enjoying this way too much. Now he got to play the one in control, the boss man. No longer trying to earn his way into someone else's world by putting on a show. For some reason that brought back all the anger and betrayal Dom had struggled with the past few days. He pushed past Brian and went into the bathroom, closing the door hard. He tried to put the stopper in the tub and turn on the water, but it made his head swim to bend over that far and he was nauseated. Great. With difficulty he straightened and opened the door.

"Get it going."

Brian smirked and started the water. Dom unbuttoned his shirt and unzipped his pants, and as Brian turned to go, he began peeling the shirt off, but the sleeve hung on the cast. Attempting to shrug it off sent fiery pain rocketing through his left shoulder.

"Here, let me." Brian pulled it back up, then worked the other sleeve down first before he gently lifted Dom's arm and pulled it all the way off. There was something about his hands, the way they were callused and strong and soft all at the same time, that made Dom's skin goosebump. "Fifteen minutes," Brian said with a look on his face like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't. That was starting to feel familiar. "I'm coming in to check on you and make sure you're awake and not drowning."

Dominic peered at the midget-sized tub. "Don't think there's any real danger of me getting low enough to do that."

"Just be careful. Don't get that cast wet."

Dom grunted an acknowledgement.

He slid into the tub carefully. Having one arm nearly useless from shoulder pain and the other disabled from a cast made everything a lot harder, but he'd be damned if he'd ask Brian to come in and wash his back. He gingerly ran his hand over his head; _that_ he would have to ask Brian for help with, though, if he didn't want all his hair to grow back. After doing the best wash job he could, he leaned back in the tub, eyes closed. Small as the tub was, the hot water eased some of the aches. The lingering helplessness and physical pain were annoying, but at least he was out of the damn bed.

He let his mind wander, attempting not to think of Mia or Jesse or Vince. Instead he tried to get a handle on what they were planning. What Brian wanted... There was something about the way Brian had looked at him. Before, the way his hand had feathered along his skin as he took the shirt off... it was almost arousing, and Christ almighty that was one deeply disturbing thought. Dom wasn't sure if he was imagining all of it. Or... wanting it? He had always liked being noticed by women, and not at all bothered when noticed by men -- he'd spent a lot of time on his physique just so he _would_ be noticed. But it was something else about the way Brian reacted to him, the way he seemed slightly embarrassed, or afraid, when Brian had never really acted either way before over anything.

With a lot of effort he got out of the tub, and had to slide his clothes on over partially damp skin because he didn't get completely dried off. When he came back out Brian was sitting at the rickety table, a gun taken apart and laid out in front of him.

"That yours?" Dom had gotten the impression that both his gun and his badge had been taken away from him upon the suspension.

"Yeah. Tanner gave it back to me. He called me while I was out getting you clothes. Figured that I might need some protection, but he doesn't want me carrying the badge. Keep it on the down-low, he said."

"Smart guy."

"He's pretty good." Brian wiped down the slide. He must have been cleaning it for the first time since shooting Johnny Tran.

Dom sat down on the bed, shoving pillows up behind him and leaning back. He'd never thought that just taking a bath would wipe him out completely. "You're doing this because you want to get back in his good graces, aren't you?"

He put the gun back together and popped the magazine in, racked the slide and put the safety on. Finally he looked up and said, "Only partly, but yeah. Guess that's my MO -- screw up and then try to get back in someone's graces. My specialty is letting people down."

Dom frowned.

Brian put all the supplies back in a bag, and stuffed everything in the drawer next to his bed. "We picked the right place to stop. Big old Wal-Mart had everything. I hadn't had a chance to take care of that." There was something peculiar about the way he said the word _that_ , kind of distant and regretful.

"Maybe you need to take some time to deal with it. Maybe you're not..."

"Not what?" he asked sharply. "All together? Or I'm too emotional? It happened, Dom, it was a good shoot, he was endangering citizens and already killed someone. End of story."

"Not end of story. It could put you off your game. Affect your judgment if you have to do something like it again. We're playing for stakes here."

"Yeah, and you're one to talk. Have you even thought about Jesse at all? Dealt with any of that? Are we supposed to go to group counseling?"

Dom drew his head back and blinked. " _What_ is going on here? Why are you acting like this?" He could only assume that this hostility was some kind of mask for how fearful Brian was, the way Letty would go on the attack when she was most afraid or hurt.

Brian wiped his hand across his face. "Yeah, sorry. I'm just tired of thinking about all this stuff. I don't like... dwelling in the past, you know?" He looked around the room. "I got food. You wanna eat? Not that great, just stuff for nuking and something for breakfast tomorrow."

"Sure." Dom didn't believe that had anything to do with it, but he wasn't going to push it. He really didn't know Brian at all: what motivated him, what informed his personality, what drove him to do the things he did. Brian knew nearly everything about him, but he did not have the luxury of understanding where Brian was coming from.

They ate silently, Dom picking at his food. He was unbelievably tired even though he'd done no more than ride in a car and take a bath, really. They watched TV -- a Dodgers game and some stupid sitcoms -- and then he was back under the covers before Brian turned off the light. All without any real conversation.

He could hear Brian breathing, but it was not rhythmic the way it would be in sleep. Sometimes people felt safer in the dark, so Dom decided to take a chance.

"What was your life like, before this job?" he asked quietly.

Brian didn't answer for a time, and Dom wondered if he'd misjudged. Eventually he said, "Not much to tell. Just... worked, on patrol, like I told you before. Hung out with other cops. Surfed whenever I could. Worked on my car."

"And before that? Where do you come from?" Dom's voice was low and soft, and the way it came out of the dark was like a touch, Brian thought. It kind of freaked him out when Dom was like this; Brian felt as if he was being seduced, in a way. Mia had said Dominic pulled people to him, and she was right. There was something overpowering about that low voice, the careful way he spoke sometimes. He was not the average heavy you met on the job, despite what everyone said.

"Grew up in Barstow. Had a pretty crappy childhood, same as everyone else. Moved here."

"That's it? Come on, Brian, there must be more. What makes you so closed off sometimes?"

"Who says I'm closed off?"

"It's like something comes across your face. Click. I thought it was just part of your role till you did it tonight."

He'd never considered the possibility of Dom taking the time to put his actions together. That Dom thought enough about him to notice any of his characteristics was... more than unexpected. It was startling.

"I don't know. I guess... I guess I was just always alone, so I never thought about it."

"How could you always be alone? Don't you have a family?"

Of course Dom would think of that immediately -- he came from a good home, grew up with people who loved him. Enough so that when part of it was gone, he had filled his house up with new people to become a makeshift family. Maybe that was what made it so easy to talk to Dom, to even think of telling him something that he'd never really talked about to anyone. Dom had that open quality. The kind of thing that also led you to your doom, too, though. Get sucked in by the wrong person at the right time, and you were a goner.

"Not much of one," he said, rolling over on his side. He could only see Dom's vague shape in the bed because of the porch light coming in through the edges of the curtains. "My dad left when I was too young to know him, if he was even part of my life at all. My mom was a raging alcoholic. She was almost always drunk, never home. When she wasn't drunk she was a delusional flake. Child services was in and out of the house all the time. I mostly learned to take care of myself when I was a kid. Bounced around from relative to relative until no one wanted me anymore."

"So some of that stuff on your record is true?"

"Not really, but kind of. I got into trouble, the usual kid stuff, till I learned to drive and tried to boost a car one day. I got caught, and that time I had to go to juvenile court. My guardian basically raked Mom over the coals in court, and I guess it shook her up a lot, so she finally sobered up. But it was too late. I didn't want to have anything to do with her by then, and since they got me off, I moved in with a friend. His family didn't want me there, but... they let me sleep in their basement. The day I graduated high school, I left town. The only time I ever looked back was for my friend. Just before I finished the academy, she died. Cirrhosis, they said, but she died from pneumonia."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Nothing to be done. Even if it's fashionable to blame all your troubles on your parents, I don't have time for that crap. I thought sometimes about looking after her, but she made her choice to let booze run her life instead of taking care of her kid."

"No sibs?"

"A brother, a lot older than me. Different dad. He left when I was seven, and I was glad. He went into the army, got a dishonorable discharge for being a drug dealer, basically. We never heard from him; sometimes I think that's good because all I remember was that he was a psycho."

"Jesus, Brian."

"Don't pity me, okay?" He knew that tone of voice. Girlfriends always used it on him. If he could have changed his life he would have, but wishing to change the past was useless. "I made a life for myself. I could have just laid down and taken it, done the whole 'I'm destined for San Quentin so why fight it' thing that I always got from school counselors, but I didn't."

"Doesn't sound like much of a life, though, if you haven't got family and friends around you."

"Maybe it wasn't." Brian hesitated. He felt such a deep desire to reach across the space between the beds and just touch Dominic, make some kind of physical connection with him. This moment in the dark was closer than he'd been to another human in years. "I thought it was, though, until I met the Torettos."

Dom was silent then, and Brian let him fall into sleep. Maybe he shouldn't have brought that up, because then everything that came with it -- the betrayal, the deceit, the loss -- wouldn't be hanging between them, an emotional scar made visible by their confessions. In the light of day, though, it would all probably look very different.

 

When Dom woke the next morning, Brian was already up and moving around the room. His hair was wet and curling against his neck, and he wore a pair of grey boxers of that knit stuff that draped more than a little nicely over his ass. Dom rolled over and threw his arm across his eyes, careful to avoid whacking the bridge of his nose with his cast. He really did not want to be noticing Brian's ass, or his shorts, or his chest, or his goddamn hair. Or how his skin looked golden in the light...

Too close for comfort, Dom was starting to think. Like he was so desperate and emotional right now that he'd check out Brian the way he'd check out a girl, and it was all just because they were too close, the situation was too intense.

Brian noticed him then, and stopped. "Morning," he said brightly. Oh, Christ, he was a morning person. "Or should I say afternoon? I think we're almost there."

Dom glanced at the clock. "God, how did I sleep this long?"

"We both did. I didn't wake up till like 10:30. I guess we're both still pretty wrecked. More than we look, I mean. How do you feel?"

Humiliated? Embarrassed? Like some kind of freaking faggot? "Better. Almost human." He sat up slowly. "Head's good." Right now he really didn't want to get up in just his underwear with Brian there so close. He moved his arm around, trying to see if the shoulder was going to allow him more motion, but no dice. "Hey, I need a favor. I won't be able to get a razor over my head all the way, so can you do the back later? My scalp is itching like crazy."

Brian smiled in a supremely irritating way. "Sure, but it'd be kind of interesting to see you with hair. I wonder if it'd make you look... I don't know, ordinary or something."

"What are you saying? That I don't look ordinary?" There was something about his slightly amazed tone that gave Dom pause.

"Well, yeah. You... you look kind of... extraordinary." He emphasized the extra part. Dom's stomach did a kind of flip-flop, and both of them stared at each other before Brian dropped his head and turned around.

"So hey, I'll go to the store later to get some plastic wrap," he said in a desperate attempt to grab back some of his dignity. "So you can shower if you want."

Dom just raised an eyebrow.

"Do you want to eat first?"

"Yeah. I'm really hungry, at last."

"Means you're getting better." And that Brian wouldn't have to ask him what color his piss was, which he was more relieved about than he could say. "The nurse would be happy."

Brian grinned at him and tugged his jeans on, then pulled on a big, sloppy, white t-shirt that looked like it had just come out of a plastic pack.

"You know, we really need to work on your clothes, man. You have the worst dress sense I've ever seen."

"What, these aren't good enough?" He spread his arms wide.

"Nah, it has no style. You've got a good frame, you should wear clothes that work with it. You look like some pan-handling surfer kid at the Santa Monica pier."

"When all this is over, then, we'll go to Rodeo Drive." Brian turned away and started working on some breakfast while Dom finally got off the bed, tugging his pants on as fast as he could. He watched Brian as he started pulling items out of the ancient little refrigerator.

"What are you making?"

"I don't know. Scrambled eggs, I got some bacon, and bread for toast... what do you want?"

He let Brian natter on about breakfast possibilities while he struggled with his shirt, watching the way Brian moved. That was the thing he'd first noticed about Brian, how confident and at ease he was, even when he shouldn't really be. After everything he'd told Dom last night, it started to make sense in a way. He'd been taking care of himself his whole life, and even if he clearly couldn't cook to save his life, he'd always been able to handle himself. Jumping into a race, getting in a fistfight with Vince or a shootout with Johnny Tran... it didn't matter what he did, because Brian could do whatever he needed to, and then some. All this crap now, it was the same thing -- he had a focus and drive that came from being alone, from not having to spread that attention around to others. Dom was surprised that Brian was as outgoing and friendly as he was; usually people who'd had that kind of childhood, like Jesse, ended up with a shitload more problems than just being lonesome. But had Brian been lonely? He couldn't tell. Sometimes he thought it had been the racing, the life, that Brian had coveted, not the family and the team. Maybe, though, it was like he'd said just before Dom had fallen asleep, that his life had been enough for him all those years until he'd seen what he was missing. It made Dom feel, not sorry for him, but almost forgiving of everything. Almost.

He went over and took the knife out of Brian's hand without thinking. There was a momentary look of panic on Brian's face, but Dom just rumbled out, "Let someone who knows what he's doing take care of this." Brian looked at him funny but slipped out of the kitchen. "What were you attempting to make?"

"Just scrambled eggs with cheese. Some veggies thrown in. These are crappy utensils."

"It's not the utensils, it's the cook and what he does with them." He made a shooing motion. "I'll make an omelet, even though this _is_ a crappy pan. That's another thing we gotta work on with you. Cooking skills." He began slicing the onion.

Brian was taken aback. Not just that Dom was up and doing things, but that he was talking as if they had some kind of pleasant, domestic-y future where Dom could help Brian create a new image.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Brian asked.

"Nah. Just seems to hurt if I put any kind of torque on it -- pull on something or turn it a little."

"You seemed to be able to hold the keys and shift after the accident. I was surprised when I saw the cast."

"Yeah. It didn't hurt much more than anything else then. In fact, it didn't hurt until they put the damn cast on. Anyway, slicing an onion isn't that big of a deal. You could crack the eggs, though. And open a bottle of water for me. California water is for shit anyway, but this stuff is foul."

Dom looked totally focused on the food now, not showing any awareness that Brian was watching him. He was grateful that Dominic hadn't said anything about their conversation the night before, no pitying comments about his childhood and current life or apologies for not treating him more gently, something like that. Girls Brian had dated had always wanted to talk about it, to psychoanalyze him and somehow make him better with their smothering concern. Eventually he hadn't just stopped talking about it, he'd stopped making any attempts to have lasting girlfriends.

"Plates," Dom said when he was done, and Brian got everything together while Dom sat down at the small, rickety table. He was clearly tired already. Better, but obviously tired.

Brian tucked in to the omelet with relish. "Man, you really are a good cook." Both Dom and Mia had made meals during the time they were hanging out, and Brian had been all the more aware then of those homey things he'd lacked his whole life, how much even a small, intimate activity like cooking a meal together could bring to a relationship. He'd thought then, as he watched them, that they were luminous together; those moments had made it impossible for him to let them go.

Maybe Tanner had begun to understand that at the end, when he'd told him there were all sorts of family. Brian had betrayed one family -- his police brothers -- for another one. A mirage-like vision that shone with a light he'd only ever dreamed about before.

Brian cleaned up after they were finished, while Dom drank his coffee, which had a weird tinny taste. Behind him, Brian said, "So, you wanna go over this stuff, make a list of people to see and places to go, all of that?"

"Sure." Brian grabbed some paper and a pen. "When are we getting out of here?" Dom's voice sounded more irritated than he meant it to.

"Give it another day at least. I'm sorry, I know you feel trapped, but... you gotta heal up or you're not going to get anywhere." He looked down at the paper. "Okay, so... name me some names. What's the first order of business?"

"Castelano will be playing it quiet. We have to dig him up. The guy who put me in touch with him, he's the one who loaded those trucks. He would call me with details about the loads. And Hector has my car, by the way."

"Okay. Who else?"

"Edwin and his crew. He's not much for the player lifestyle, but he's got connections. Enough people he knows probably deal with whatever Gregory's boys are moving, especially the cocaine."

"Any of these guys have a score to settle or extra baggage that I should know about?"

"Other than the fact that you're heat? No."

Brian laughed. "So, once we get a line on Castelano, then we shake him for Gregory, or do we wait for Gregory to come to us?"

"Both, probably. I don't know. I wasn't exactly planning for this situation, you know." If Brian said anything like "well, you should have," he'd have to clean his clock, no matter how much it hurt.

"Yeah, I know." He finished his coffee. "How did you get hooked up with this guy, anyway?"

"Knew a guy in stir who knew a guy. A while after I got out he approached me. Heard I was racing and knew I could handle the cars. I thought... I thought it might mean I could go somewhere, start over."

"How much of the money did you spend?"

Dom glowered. Brian was shocked by how quickly his mood had changed, as if Brian had managed to take him someplace he hadn't wanted to go. "Most of my cut is still around."

"Where is it?" He probably didn't want to know the answer to this, but he was kind of tired of not knowing enough.

"Some of it went for Mia and school. Some of it for the car."

"What are you saying?"

Dom's unsparing gaze was disconcerting. Clearly Brian was straying into territory that Dom still thought he shouldn't be in. "I'm saying that Gregory may want revenge, but he wants his money more, and I can buy Mia back if I get close enough to him."

"You have that much? Out of six million -- "

"What?" Dom laughed, his face betraying his incredulity. "Out of _what_?" He pushed back from the table.

"They said that at the time I finally got connected to you, the haul had been about six million in street value."

Dom laughed, loud and long. "Oh, man, that's just rich. And you believed them?"

"There a reason I shouldn't?"

"Six million for a bunch of amps and DVD players and camcorders? Think about it. How many trucks would we have had to pop to do that, even if they'd been filled to the brim with plasma TVs? Even high-end shit wouldn't pull that much."

"Then what was the take?" Brian was kind of angry at being put in the position of naïve kid again, even though it wasn't Dom's fault.

"Million and a half, two, tops. Split five ways, Brian."

"Shit."

"Who told you that?"

"Bilkins. That's what all the paperwork said."

Dom looked at him like he was a slow child. "Brian, you're a cop. You know how much they always inflate the street value of drugs whenever there's a big bust, and then the news people jack it up even more. Don't you think that if it had been worth that much, they would have had dragnets up long before you came on board? Or U.S. Marshals riding shotgun? The truckers wouldn't have waited till their own guys started packing if that much money had been involved."

Brian got up and paced back and forth. "Yeah, but... Never mind. Just -- okay, so we use the money as leverage once we find him. How much are we talking here?"

"The last truck shouldn't have had more than four-hundred thousand in it. I take Jesse's cut from the last job, use what I have left over for me and Mia, I'll have enough to cover. I can sell the RX-7 if I have to drop more for interest." He stopped, hung his head, and pressed his fingertips to his brow. All this time of trying not to think too much about Jesse and it all just came flooding back to him, overpowering his strong will for denial. The last thing he wanted to do was lose it and cry in front of Brian.

"What were you keeping it for?"

Dom looked up at him, not even really sure how to answer that. "A better life, I guess. Not a lot of options left for me after I got out."

"What about all that money you made racing? You raked in some serious dinero; did you put it all into the cars?"

Dom licked his lips, moved his jaw back and forth. He wasn't sure how much he could trust Brian yet, but it felt like he had to tell him everything now. "That money... aahh, that money goes into an account that's separate from everything else. I don't touch that money."

Suspicion was written all over his face. "For who?"

"Uhh... it's for Kenny Linder."

Brian glanced away, twitching his head. He blinked a few times and then stared out the window, and Dom wasn't sure, but it looked like his face had gotten flushed and his eyes were shiny. Dom got up and rinsed out the mug, then poured some more coffee, which had grown nearly ice-cold by now. But he felt like he had to do something, because everything had gotten very weird all of a sudden. Emotional in a way he didn't like, tense and uncertain. He knew so little of Brian, how he thought, what made him tick, that he had no idea what to make of Brian's reactions. He sat back down at the table, waiting.

It took Brian a while to regroup, he had been thrown so off guard by the admission. Just like telling him about his dad that day in the garage, that he'd been scared to drive his dad's car. How many people did he confess these excrutiatingly personal details to? Brian wondered. In a million years he could not have expected that: exactly the kind of thing that had made it so hard when Bilkins and Tanner had been bearing down on him, pressuring him to put the finger on Dom. They didn't know what he was really like, that there was more to him than his record. The more time you spent with Dominic, the more you got to know him, then the black and the white just started falling away and you were left with only shades of grey -- and a hefty dose of confusion. So he changed the subject.

"Did you honestly think risking your life on some hijacking scheme was a better choice to make enough money to do what you wanted? Why, Dom? Why do such a dangerous, dumb thing?"

Dom shot up off the chair, looking like he was ready for a fight. Brian had no doubt that even with cracked ribs and the aftereffects of a concussion, Dom could still beat the snot out of him. He'd seen what he had done to Tran. "That's not your call to make."

"Didn't you have any idea? Any clue that those truckers weren't going to sit down and take it? You couldn't be that stupid to keep pushing something so dangerous for a take that small..."

"It was worth the risk. What was left for me? Street racing with kids? Tricking out cars the rest of my life? Never having the chance to do what I wanted because of one really bad mistake that I regret every goddamn minute of every day?"

"And what about your family and your friends? You knew they'd do whatever you said. They had to pay for your crime, too?"

Dom was clenching and unclenching his left hand, and Brian briefly wondered if he was really going to pop him this time. "They knew the score. They wanted to do it. They're adrenaline junkies, too."

"What do you think your dad would have said? Do you think he wanted you to end up just another stupid punk like everyone else from East LA?"

Dom cocked his head sideways, and his bitter smirk and glittery eyes were more than a little scary. "That's pretty good coming from someone who pushed his mother away when she was trying to make amends and left her to die alone. But I get the impression that's what you're good at -- pushing people away when it counts."

Brian really didn't lose his temper often; he could get fed up easily and be more than willing to walk away from something in disgust, but wanting to hit people... that came a lot harder. Right now, though, he could drop Dom to the floor easily and just leave him to clean up his own mess. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"And why is that, Brian? Why _are_ you here? Just because you fucked my sister, you think you owe it to us? Is that it? Or you're trying to, what, make amends for lying and deceiving us, because making amends is what you do?"

He knew Dom was just trying to provoke him, but knowing that didn't stop it from working. "I'm just trying to help you both because I care about you both."

"Didn't I tell you that if you broke her heart I'd break your neck?"

"I could have busted you any time." He punched the air with his finger to punctuate his words. "They pressured me constantly to drop a dime on you but I wouldn't, over and over. I kept telling them they were wrong about you, that you were too controlled and too smart. Obviously _I_ was wrong on that score." Brian's voice cracked; he lost more control the more he spoke, but he couldn't stop it, all the pent-up anger and frustration of the past few days rolled over him like a train.

Now Dom gestured wildly, too. "Maybe you should have, if you were as good a cop as you say you were. What is it? You needed a family so much, you had to take mine if you could get it? Or was it getting in Mia's pants that was so important?" This reminded him way too much of how Dom had shouted at him just before Jesse got hit; his chest felt tight and his eyes stung.

"No, Dom," he said quietly. "I care about Mia, a lot." Brian felt very hollow and empty right then. "I just didn't want to believe it was you. I wanted it not to be you so much I was willing to throw it all away."

Dom reacted as if he'd been slapped. "Wh-- what are you saying? Was it part of your cover or not, this thing with Mia?"

Brian shook his head, staring at the floor. "It was about you, Dom. It was always all about you." He grabbed his wallet and stuffed it in his back pocket, then picked up the car keys. "I gotta go out and get some stuff."

Dom only stood there staring at the wall as he closed the door.

 

He stayed that way for a long time, motionless, feeling dragged down and tired, weight on his shoulders sinking him down, down under dark cold water. Dom sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his eyes. What the hell was happening here? Every time he thought he was going to finally get Brian to pony up the truth, to give him a clear picture of who and what he was, he threw Dom a curveball so hard and sharp it knocked him right on his ass before he could even swing at the pitch.

He had no idea what Brian was telling him: that he was obsessed with bringing Dom down, or that he wanted something more... personal. Neither thing made sense. If he'd wanted to nail Dom for the hijackings then he would never have tried to help them when the last job had gone wrong. But if he was telling Dom that there was something deeper emotionally and that it had nothing to do with Mia, _that_ was even scarier and weirder.

He sat for a while until he couldn't tolerate thinking about it anymore. There was cleanup to do, so he focused on that, attempting to wash the dishes but keep his cast dry. Even if his ribs and shoulder still ached, he didn't care; the pain was a nice distraction from the truly freaky thoughts racing around in his head. It wasn't like he was surprised that Brian had been concentrating on him all that time; it was part of his job, after all. But saying that Dom was the only thing that mattered to Brian was a different sort of confession altogether.

Only wasn't that kind of how he'd felt about Brian all this time? Dom remembered a conversation he'd had with Mia one night, a rare time when they'd been alone in the house, everyone having gone home before dinner. The two of them had enjoyed eating together quietly without all the usual conversational buzz, and then Mia had done her studying at the kitchen table while he cleaned up. She'd asked him, completely out of the blue, "What is it about him, anyway? Why did we both let him in so quickly?"

"You mean Brian?" Dom had asked, surprised at the fact that she brought it up, let alone how she phrased it.

"Yeah. Dom, you haven't been friendly to anyone new since... since you got back, and you sure haven't been nice to anyone I've gone out with. Yet Brian's hanging around every day, working at your garage, eating here... I keep expecting him to sleep here, too."

Dom arched an eyebrow at her. "That gonna happen?" He hadn't really wanted to think of her sleeping with the guy just yet, but he was aware that his perfect little sister wasn't exactly a nun.

She had turned scarlet, quickly dropping her eyes to her book. "I'm taking things as they come. But I guess I was just thinking that it's so strange. I mean, we hardly ever get quiet time like this, and maybe it just points up how... I don't know, insulated our lives are. We hang with the same group except when there's a party, we work with the same people we hang with. Except for school, my life is mostly about your life."

Dom had sat down at the table and twisted the top off a beer, taking a long drink. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you were that unhappy."

She shook her head vigorously. "I'm not. You know I love you and that means loving the people around you. Even Vince." They had both laughed at that. "It's just... we have this little life and people mostly come into it for you. Brian's the first person who ever said that he was here for me first."

"He said that?" Dom had tried not to sound too incredulous.

"Yeah," she said, looking down at the table with a shy smile.

"Good for him, then."

"But you two... I've never seen you take to anyone that fast. Not even Leon and Jesse, I think."

Dom had already thought about it more than a few times, but he didn't tell Mia then. "I don't know, either. Maybe it was just time for me to branch out." He also hadn't been able to tell her that he'd been questioning his own motives for bringing him around the longer he knew Brian.

"It's because he took you on, isn't it? Because he wasn't awed by you."

There were a lot of things he loved about Mia, but her insight was one of the things he loved most. She was so much smarter than anyone he'd known, and he wanted nothing more than for her to succeed where the rest of them were just treading water or failing. She had an unerring ability to nail what motivated people in a way he could never hope to do.

"Maybe. It was... unexpected. I thought someone who could throw down like he wasn't afraid of me might be interesting. And then he kind of rescued me." He had shrugged. "Besides, I'm tired of having to chase away your boyfriends."

Mia had grinned and looked down at her book. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Yet," Dom had teased, and raised his beer toward her in a toast.

But now that he knew all these other things, none of that made any sense to Dom. Both he and Mia had believed, even after the truth of Brian's identity came out, that the reason Brian had been so reluctant to do anything was because of Mia. And now... Brian was saying what? She was secondary at best? It just didn't quite add up no matter how he looked at it.

Dom took one of the painkillers and lay down on the bed. Better get rested and be ready for another fight, because he was pretty damn sure Brian would be spoiling for one when he returned.

 

Brian drove around for a while just staring at the scenery, until he ended up at a bar in town just staring into a beer. A part of him was dismayed at getting all TMI with Dom, but another part of him was relieved that it was finally out. The two of them had danced around this thing the past few days and that was a few days too long, at least for his taste. Whatever emotional baggage they carried, it was a lot heavier because of the intensity of this weird friendship, and if they didn't talk about it, then things were probably just going to get worse.

Not that he really wanted to talk about anything emotional with Dom, because it always went haywire. These days Brian didn't know what to expect even from himself; stuff just came flying out of his mouth as if someone else was tossing random words around and they had nothing to do with his own thoughts. All the control and distance he'd practiced his entire life apparently evaporated around the Torettos, especially around Dominic.

What did he really want from Dom, anyway? What was he even expecting by telling him how important he was? Jesus, what a stupid situation he'd put them in. Brian felt things for Dom he hadn't even felt about Mia -- a desperate need to keep him in his life, an overpowering fear of losing him -- and all of it was getting too bizarre, too intense. Very emotional, and emotions were like quicksand.

The waitress in the very unbusy establishment came by and asked him if he wanted another drink, jolting him out of his blue mood. He declined and walked down the street to find a pay phone, since Dom had destroyed their room phone in his fit of pique -- and the cell service here was nonexistent. Brian dialed Tanner's number; he picked up on the third ring.

 

Tanner had been wondering what O'Conner and Toretto were up to when his cell phone rang, an inland area code showing up on the ID. At least the kid was proving true to his word, so far.

"Hey, Sarge," Brian said. "Just checking in."

"Well, we're all still alive, even though hurricane Bilkins swept through here day before yesterday." That was an understatement, but the last thing Brian needed was to know just how badly Bilkins wanted his head on a stake. That would most decidedly undermine his confidence.

"Yeah, I was figuring we were in for a natural disaster. What did he say when he calmed down?"

"He never calmed down."

"Sorry." Brian didn't sound at all convincing. "Look, we'll probably be back in LA tomorrow. I think we're ready to leave and there's been enough time for word to filter back to Gregory."

Tanner thought about that. He wondered how much advice he should offer, since this wasn't really an organized op; he also wondered how much advice Brian would willingly take from him. "When you get back, where are you going to stay?"

"Don't know. Is the Torettos' house still a crime scene?"

"Yeah. Brian, do me a favor. If you stay there, don't take any of the crime scene ID down yet: tape, flags, any of it. Make it look like you're not exactly hiding from anyone, but still trying to keep it quiet to the cops that you're around." He still found it difficult to be confident of Brian's ability to pull this off, but now that the wheels were in motion, he had to keep them going.

"Will do. Hey, Sergeant. You know how they said the hijackings were costing the truckers something like six million? Was that true? Because Dom says different."

Tanner should have expected that. "Well, yeah, Brian. The value was inflated, you know they tend to do that. The feds especially. I don't know the real value, before you ask."

"Goddammit," Brian muttered. "How many other lies are in this thing? What else don't I know, before I go screwing anything up again?"

"I don't know, Brian. I wasn't privy to much of it myself, once they came on board." Brian had an innocent streak that was sometimes a little wearying. Walking the line between Brian and the feds had never been easy; they were like matter and anti-matter, and Tanner had spent more than a few hours wondering when the explosion would occur.

There was a long pause on the other end before Brian finally said, "By the way, something you should know. That much smaller take from the hauls? Dom still has most of his share. And he's planning to use it to leverage Mia if he can. I'll let you know when we get closer."

" _If_ you get closer. Do I want to know where the money is? Probably you shouldn't answer that."

"I didn't get that far." Again another lengthy silence, before he said, "There's something else. About the money."

"I'm not going to want to hear this either, am I?"

"When he races, he usually pulls in about four, maybe even six large a race. And he never loses. It's usually a one or two G buy-in, winner take all, right? He's been putting almost all that money for the past couple years into an account for Kenny Linder."

Well, that was just fucking great.

"You know who Linder is, right?"

"Yeah, Brian, I know who Linder is." So now their mark wasn't just running around free trying to play FBI missing persons agent and solve a kidnapping with Tanner's own blessing, but he was a good Samaritan to boot. Wonderful.

"I thought you'd want to know."

"Doesn't change the fact that he ripped off those trucks, Brian. Or assaulting Tran in front of hundreds of witnesses, or the reason he went to prison, or any of it."

"Maybe not. But it changes things for me."

That was precisely what he was worried about. "Brian, you're still in the game, right?"

"Yeah, Sarge. I'll be in touch." The line clicked off, and Tanner stared at the phone in his hand for a while before putting it down. The last thing he wanted was to have Brian start thinking Toretto was some kind of hero, but he was afraid it might already be too late.

 

When Brian returned to the motel, Dom was nowhere to be found. He told himself not to panic, but the rising anxiety was like bile in his throat, and he frantically searched the office and around the main building. It would not be cool to shout for Dom, because calling even more attention to the two guys sharing one room who both looked like they'd been run over by a Peterbilt and were obviously on the lam? Not a good idea. He tried to remember which cars had been parked there earlier, wondering if Dom could have hotwired one of them and taken off. Brian wouldn't put it past him, the mood he'd been in. Just as he was about to give up, he heard a deep, rumbling voice from behind the office's shed, and Brian walked over behind the run-down building. "Nah, it's your CV boot, I'm sure," Dom was saying, and Brian peered around the corner to see him standing over a car with the guy who'd checked them in when they got here. "Classic tear problem. But you'll have to replace both, even if one's still good. I could fix it for you, normally, if we could get it to a lift, but not with my arms fucked up like this." The guy muttered something under the hood, but Brian couldn't hear him. "Not a problem," Dom said. "Been going stir crazy anyway." Just then he noticed Brian, and nodded. "Drop by if you have any more questions," he said, and walked back to the room alongside Brian.

"Car trouble?"

"Axle stuff. Torn CV joint."

"How'd he know to ask you?"

"Ahh... I was just kind of out wandering around and we got to talking."

When they got in the room, Brian turned to face Dom and said in a voice that sounded more helpless than he wanted it to, "Look, I'm-- "

But Dom cut him off. "I'm sorry, Brian. I don't do the apology thing well, I admit it, but... I'm sorry I said some of that shit. I shouldn't have thrown things you told me in confidence back at you that way."

Brian bit back a smart-ass response and nodded instead. "I know. I shouldn't have said some of that, either." Like, telling you that I'm obsessed with you, for instance. That would have been a good thing to hold back.

"We good, then?" Dom asked.

"Sure."

"Okay, because I don't want to hand you a razor if you're still pissed."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that." Brian wasn't so sure he wanted to do something that... close right now. Everything felt crackly and amped up, and the fact that they weren't going to talk about it made it even weirder. Dom was the more open and emotional of them, and if _he_ wasn't going to bring it up, then neither was Brian.

Dom sat down in the corner chair opposite his bed, the room's lone attempt at offering anything like comfortable furniture. "So... where'd you go?"

"Just to the store again. Got some plastic wrap and tape -- we put the bread bag over your cast, tie it off, some wrap, some tape, and voila, instant cast protector."

"You've done this before."

"Yeah. Had a similar fracture once that I got on a domestic dispute. Guy took a header at me and knocked me down, had to wear it for a while. Oh, and here's a trick for when it itches." He took a piece of stationery from the table and folded it into a long, thin, inch-wide piece. "Slide that down in there if you get an itch. You're not supposed to stick stuff like needles in there, but this solves the problem without the possibility of breaking skin."

Dom grinned. "Now _that_ is a helpful trick." He flexed his fingers. "I feel like my muscles are already atrophying. I don't know how much longer I can stand this."

"Be a lot worse if it's as bad as they say it'll be without it."

Dom just grunted in response.

"I take it you're feeling better if you're out reconnoitering the premises."

"Yeah. Tired easy, though. And then there's the pain, which is taking its own sweet time to go away."

"You take your pills?" Brian put his hands up in the air. "I know, I know, stop nannying. I'm just asking."

"You smell like you had a few drinks." Dom didn't look at him, so Brian couldn't tell if he was being judgmental or not.

"I stopped at a bar. Just... you know."

Dom didn't meet his eyes; instead his gaze flicked around the room like he was trying to find something else to focus on without having to cope with Brian.

"Is there any way I can talk to Vince? Get in touch with Leon or Letty?" His voice was raw. "I don't know... uuhh, I don't know if I can last much longer without knowing they're all right."

"I can call Tanner and see if I can squeeze an update. I just talked to him, and he didn't say anything, so my guess is nothing's changed. I'll have to go out, though. The cell service is lousy, and you kind of... wrecked our phone. I'd use the one at the desk, but I don't want to broadcast." He paused, uncertain whether he ought to say anything more, but it seemed worth the risk. "You know, they'll be okay without you. I know you're used to it, being the head of the team and being responsible, but I think... I think it's all right for you to let go. Vince is probably still in serious condition, but he's being taken care of. You know Letty can take care of herself. It'll turn out okay."

He gave a ragged little sigh, still not meeting Brian's eyes. "There's no one around to even give Jesse a funeral..."

"I know. I'm sorry. When we get back, we'll take care of it, I promise."

Dom pressed his fingers to his eyes, trying to keep back the tears that threatened to come out every time he thought about this. "I can't just let it go. This is because of me. It's all because of me that they're in trouble or fucked up or dead." He sprang off the chair and Brian took a quick step back, looking a little freaked out. "I'm the one responsible for all this and what am I doing? Nothing! I can't even ask Vince if he's okay, and what happened to him is my fault!" He kicked the chair and sent it flying into the fireplace.

"Don't start breaking shit again, Dom, I gotta pay for this room." Brian scowled and picked up the chair.

Taking a couple deep breaths, Dom grabbed the edge of the sink and leaned over it, tapping his head against the cabinet door a few times. It didn't feel good at all, but the pain helped him get a grip. "I'm sorry. Just a little temporary insanity."

"How could you tell?"

 _Hardy har_. But there was something about Brian's mocking tone that brought him back down to earth. The last thing he wanted was to scare Brian off by losing control; he was beginning to believe that Brian was the only thing standing between him and real insanity right now. For the first time in his life he had no idea which way to turn, no sense of direction or of how to fix everything he'd done wrong. They had always looked to him to be the strong one, the one with all the answers, and he'd enjoyed that sometimes. Other times... He'd never forgotten the disappointment on Mia's face when he'd been arrested, or how broken she'd been by his sentencing. Or the way she and Letty had both appeared so hopeful yet frightened when they'd met him outside the gates at Lompoc the day he'd been set free. Always in the back of Mia's mind, he believed, was the knowledge that he had let their parents down and destroyed whatever family legacy they'd created. He knew Mia loved him, that she would always love him despite his problems; she had molded her life to his after he returned, going to school as he'd wanted, taking part in the street-racing scene, accepting the responsibility of what their parents had left them because it was her duty and her life. But Dom carried the weight of her regret on his shoulders, knew the darkness that came from causing that little bit of her light to go out in the shame of his mistakes. She, and they, depended on him, but he could never really tell them that sometimes their dependency was like being smothered. Except Brian. Somehow, he'd been able to tell Brian without really saying anything at all.

He looked at Brian, mouth drawn tight, trying to keep that control Brian gave him too much credit for. "Sometimes I think... uhh, it's like my life is cut in half. There was this time before my dad's death, and then everything after. Lompoc, the racing, all of it is this whole other world. And I can't remember the time before, it's dark and just gone. I lost everything. Or threw it all away."

Brian watched him, seated on the bed, his face betraying nothing.

"I told you once how when I raced, it was the only time I felt free. All this time I was so focused on myself, what I needed to feel, intent on being the king of this really puny hill... and now Mia's paying the price. And Vince, and Letty, and Jesse..." He couldn't continue; he was hit by such a wave of regret and sorrow that it felt like he was drowning in the undertow. "She's a hostage, but I keep wondering... if she wasn't one before. Hostage to my life; that they all were. Even you."

Listening to Dom talk like that was the hardest thing about all this; Brian ached with the worthless feeling of being unable to help him. Even if they got Mia back, was there too much damage to repair? He wanted nothing more than to touch Dom then, the way Vince and Leon touched him without any kind of shame. It all seemed so natural among the team: the physical contact they all took for granted -- Vince had even kissed Dom on the head and no one had batted an eyelash -- and how easy they were with their personal space. None of it came naturally for Brian, and he didn't know what to do now. Would Vince have thrown an arm around Dom's neck and pulled him into a manly hug? Coming from Brian it would be wrong, stiff, but he could see Vince doing exactly that, wished he had that ease. All Brian could do was hold his hand out to Dom, who took it, and he curled his fingers around Dom's, then knocked his knuckles a couple times. "We'll work it out. I promise you, we'll fix it."

 

Later, after they'd eaten, Brian made Dom sit on the edge of the tub so he could shave his head. It had taken Brian a long time to get comfortable with Dom's comfort in silence; when Dom wanted to talk, he talked a lot, but when he didn't, you knew. Brian tried to be careful, since all he had was a cheap single-blade disposable razor that wouldn't be kind to the bumps and ridges of a skull. But being careful meant taking it slow, which meant standing in front of or next to him with his chest at face level. And that meant Dom's breath on his body, the heat of his skin so close Brian thought it might be his own, the slithering arousal that fanned through his gut up into his chest.

When he was finished he realized he'd scarcely breathed the whole time, and neither of them had said a word. He ran a washcloth over Dom's head, careful of the gash, then just stood there, a kind of drugged paralysis weighing down muscle and bone. His fingertips rested on Dom's skin just above his left ear, and as he cast his eyes down, he was confronted with Dom looking up at him, nostrils flared slightly, chest rising and falling with slow, shallow breaths, lips parted. Brian allowed his fingers to slide unhurriedly down the side of Dom's face, taking in the smooth-rough texture of his skin, the sight of his glittering brown eyes locked on Brian's.

Then he felt a hand on his side above his hip, faint outline of thumb and fingers and the hard bulk of the cast pressed flat, just barely making contact. He could see that Dom was hard; maybe worse, so was Brian, and he practically had his crotch in Dom's face already. Dom shut his eyes.

Aware then that his mouth was open and that he hadn't swallowed for a while, Brian tried to form words, but they stubbornly stuck behind his tongue. "Uhh... do you... do you want me to help with... your face, too?" he finally choked out.

Dom's eyes snapped open and his hand dropped abruptly. "No," he growled, voice thick and low. He almost pushed Brian away, standing quickly to lean against the counter. Brian blinked a few times. They both stood facing the mirror, staring at each other's reflections, each wearing guilty, confused expressions. Brian dropped the washcloth and left.

Though Dom finished up his own shaving, he did it with a trembling hand, shamed at his reactions to Brian, how far he'd let himself go. This whole thing was way too weird just in general, but to throw this into the mix with everything else... Yet it was undeniably there, some kind of desperation or loneliness crazy enough to make him hard just because Brian touched him, because Brian had been so close he could breathe in the scent of his skin, feel the caress of his breath...

Shit. Fuck. Goddamn. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to tamp down the throbbing in his dick and the hot rush of blood spreading up through his torso. Prison, he could get: you felt those things because you were alone, locked away, because it was necessary. But this made no sense at all; whatever physical contact he'd had with a guy before had been brutal and faceless, expedient, and he wasn't -- _wasn't_ \-- a faggot. Dom didn't believe Brian was, either.

Only he had learned something right then, discovered in the way Brian had touched him, the way he'd _wanted_ Brian to touch him; now knew it like he knew his name or the sound a Hemi made at peak tune: it wasn't about desperation or loneliness or missing Letty. It was about having _Brian_ , needing him in a way he'd never wanted or needed anything else. And that was the scariest bit of knowledge he'd ever confronted.

 

They spent the rest of the evening in studious avoidance of each other, silent except for the most basic of questions, watching TV again until Brian said he was tired and turned out the light. He listened for the sound of Dominic asleep, hoping he would drift off quickly, but after a while Dom snarled, "I can't sleep," and grabbed the plastic wrap and tape from the table to go shut himself in the bathroom. The light snuck out from under the door and Brian could see his shadow moving around, hear the sound of adhesive being ripped, plastic being torn from the roll. Brian briefly thought of offering his help, but that was just the dumbest of dumbass ideas. Things were heated enough and if Dom's simmering resentment over what happened earlier was any indication, offers of any kind -- help, discussion, or his ass, even -- would be met with a good sound whupping, cast and shoulder and ribs be damned. Not that Brian didn't think he could hold his own against Dom, but he knew that he'd eventually lose once noses got broken and a few teeth were knocked out. Dom's temper was one truly terrifying thing to behold; much as he'd wanted to not believe Dom was the dangerous thug they'd told him he was -- hell, the one his record told Brian he was -- Brian had seen the effects of his short fuse and lack of restraint in settling a dispute. Or righting an insult.

And what else would making some half-assed play for the guy be seen as but an insult? Not that he'd intended to do that, but... events were just amplified by being trapped here, by the unnatural closeness forced upon them in order to do this thing. Brian didn't imagine Dom to be some crazed macho straight guy, not after two years in a California prison, but that was a different world, a different set of needs than being stuck with a guy who'd made his terrifically fucked-up feelings a little too obvious.

He lay there staring at the ceiling, listening to the shower turning on and the sound of the curtain being pulled back. It felt like Dom stayed in there forever, as if he was waiting Brian out, hoping he'd be asleep when he was done. Eventually the water stopped, then he heard ripping sounds. A long time passed before Dom clicked the light off and opened the door, his clothes bunched in one had, a towel in the other. It was easier to do what he thought Dom wanted, so Brian pretended he was asleep. But Dom didn't get into bed.

Instead he dropped his clothes on the floor and felt his way over to the corner chair, easing himself into it as if he was in too much pain to stand. Almost lying back, he leaned his head against the wall. Dom was completely naked; Brian could see the hard outline of muscle in the low light filtering through the curtains, the gleam of his skull. A white river of towel flowed down the middle of his torso, one end just covering his cock, the other bunched up in Dom's hands as he pressed it to his face. He was obviously hurting and tired, even though his face was obscured. It was as if he couldn't bring himself closer by getting in bed.

 _Holy shit._ Brian really hoped Dom believed he _was_ asleep, because otherwise this was just too perverse for words. His dick was already hard from these few seconds of watching Dom through half-closed eyes. In the gym he'd seen guys you could say were just as cut, maybe even more so, but their physiques were solely about mass. Dom's was less about bulk and more like... a sculpture. Perfectly balanced; not about the exaggerated lines of a six-pack or Popeye forearms, but instead obvious pride in strength, a kind of primal, masculine beauty. A perfect machine.

Brian rolled over on his other side, facing away. In his mind's eye he could picture himself kneeling between those strong thighs, pushing the towel away, taking his cock into his mouth. Making Dom forget all the pain and worry, feeling him beneath his hands and tongue and lips. Taking ownership, and Dom would understand and want that, no rejection or threats or running away. Brian pushed his heated face into the pillow and wished away the aching hard-on twitching against his belly.

When had their tension and fear over Mia metamorphosed into tension and fear over each other? It was as if everything that was supposed to matter had evaporated in the close heat of too-tightly shared space, and now they were left with nothing but these insane feelings and overwhelming need, both of which they were too cowardly to sort out.

They really, really needed to get out of here, like tomorrow. Either that, or they'd end up killing each other.


	3. Pavement

> **You got to promise not to say anything  
>  'Cause this guy don't dance  
>  And the word's been passed this is our last chance**

 

 

Things weren't noticeably less tense the next morning when Brian decided to throw everything in the car without making any effort at morning conversation. That seemed to suit Dom just fine; he clomped around the room getting ready, eating quickly; when they were set to go he plunked himself in the passenger seat and stared out the window like he was practicing for the glum Olympics. It was a little too much of a show, but Brian just took it for what it was: Dom being Dom, ornery and moody and exasperating.

For about twenty miles. "You gonna play it like that all day?" Brian asked with a sigh.

All he got was a low rumble in return.

"Geez, what? I don't even merit a grunt?"

There was a minute shake of Dom's head, but still nothing.

"Wow, man. I never knew."

After a few minutes Dom turned and asked "Knew what?"

Brian grinned. He knew that would get him. "That I had the power to make you speechless."

This time Dom really did shake his head, and eventually gave in to a ghost of a smile. Brian liked Dom's smile, a lot. It transformed him into someone completely different: goofy and endearing, boyish and open. Sometimes Brian wondered if _anyone_ had that many sides to their personality -- all the things they'd told him Dom was, all the things Brian had discovered on his own. So many facets and Brian was starting to believe that maybe he was the only one who got to see them all.

"So what's the game?" Dom asked, taking a long drink from a bottle of water.

"Depends. Who do you want to see first?"

"Hector. I want my car back."

"It's not like you can drive it. And I'd bet money you won't let _me_."

"Yeah, I'll let you. Because I don't want to be chauffeured around in this piece of crap. What's the deal, anyway?"

"Ah, this is my work car."

"Work car?" Dom rolled his eyes. Of course he wouldn't get something like that. His work _was_ his car.

"Yeah, man. The precinct's, like, all the way across town. Better mileage, and it's not a car anyone's likely to rip off."

"Then the Eclipse was yours?"

"No, that was for the... the job. I have a Karmann-Ghia, sixty-eight."

"No way."

"Way." Brian laughed, and it gave Dom a little shiver of pleasure to hear it. He had a throaty laugh, warm and honest. His voice was surprisingly deep; you looked at him and expected some nasal surfer-dude voice, and instead got something rich and... sensual. "Piece of junk when I bought her, though, is how I could afford it. I put in a new engine so it actually hits sixty on the freeway. Took me years to restore it."

"How do you even fit in it?"

"Volkswagens are surprisingly roomy. Then you pull the top down, stick the board in, and you're off to the beach. If you want we could go get it. Since it's more important to ride around in style, and all."

"Fuck you," Dom said, as good naturedly as possible. "I just might need my car, is all." He didn't like the thought of offering it up as interest or even collateral, but he would if he had to.

"Yeah, I know. Sorry."

"It's okay." He watched the scenery pass by for a while, trying to think of what to say. Even if it was an uneasy truce, at least they were talking, and Dom supposed he was grateful for that willingness on Brian's part to keep things good between them. Especially after the weirdness of last night. "So let's see Hector first. Then we go have a chat with the guy who sent me the trucks. Rattle a cage. Maybe he knows some playas." Dom waggled his eyebrows.

"Got that right."

They drove toward LA, quiet now maybe because they were more at ease. When they stopped for lunch at the first burger joint they found, Dom watched in awe as Brian gobbled down two huge cheeseburgers, large fries, and the biggest chocolate shake he could get. There was something almost awe-inspiring about Brian's ability to eat. If Dom ate like that, he would weigh about three hundred pounds. When they got out of the hills and down toward the city Dom started to feel more like himself, like he was back in his element. And he thought he could see that in Brian, too. His eyes were alive, watchful, his posture straighter even as he drove. Dom could see the cop in him now, all the steel inside that had brought him to try to save them that day, that had given him the courage to spill the truth and lose everything he'd dreamed of having. Everyone thought Dom was the badass, but Brian had a strength and self-possession Dom could never even hope for. And lately he wasn't so sure that he deserved to have all that standing at his back.

 

 

"Damn!" Hector said for about the fifth time in the scant few minutes they'd been at his place. "You're five-o? Damn."

Dom rubbed his eyes. "You know, it would be cool if you'd keep that on the down-low." He understood the surprise, but it was time to move on.

"Who'da thought homeboy for a cop? You think they might have put someone slick on the job, not some crazy-ass naïve white boy like this." He shook his head and opened a beer, taking a long drink. "Stories been flying fast and furious on the street, hermano. We heard all this shit about you getting taken down, but apparently we were missing some vital information." He glanced at both of them in turn, face suddenly very serious. "But I'm sorry about Mia, man. I like that girl. Whatever I can do, you got it."

"Big thing now is I have to find Castelano, because he'll know where to get in touch with the crew above him. "

Hector could tell Dom wasn't going to give up too much information, not now, anyway. Too dangerous for him. He also knew Dom wasn't telling him everything, but he wouldn't expect him to, not really. A situation like this, you'd be walking the knife-edge, and he'd known Dom for a long time -- he was more than aware of how short Dom's rope was.

"You know who'd be good to see? You tried King yet? Or that kid with the sick Prelude, man, what's his name? Jared Leung, he's the one. He's moved some merchandise. Or so, you know, I've heard." He winked at Brian, who did that crazy shy grin thing. Cop or not, it was hard not to like the guy.

"Kid's barely out of diapers."

"They're starting earlier and earlier, brah. So how long before it gets out you're five-o?"

Brian raised an eyebrow. "You keep it quiet, then long enough. We got to get Mia back before I'd prefer to have my resume hit the streets."

Hector laughed.

"That's a good idea -- King," Dom said. "I'll do that. Haven't seen him in a while anyway." Dom stood, slowly. Hector had never seen him like this, all bashed up and almost weak. His face looked drawn, and it reminded him of when Dom had been sentenced to prison. Just weighed down by it all, older. "You got my keys?"

"Yeah." Hector dug around in a drawer and tossed them to Dom. "Don't sell that thing unless you have to. I'll cry if you do."

Dom smiled, but it had a kind of bitter edge, or tired. Hector wasn't so sure that Dom could do this, even with Snowman's help. It was like he couldn't quite get it together and that was a pretty scary thought: Dominic Toretto rolling when he barely had control of himself. He gave him a handshake and then Dom was out the front to the car parked in the driveway, all ready for them to take.

Brian was leaving when Hector said, "Yo, Killer." Brian turned, hand on the screen door, his face intent. "He gonna be okay?"

"He's cool. Just... lot of regrets, you know. Pretty down on himself for letting it go down."

They both watched Dom get in the passenger seat and reach into the glove box to rummage around. "I've known Dom a long time. But I ain't never seen him like this. Keep an eye on him, yeah?"

"Will do."

"Glad he had someone to help him, though. Not too surprised it was you."

Brian gave a small, nervous laugh. "What's that mean?"

"Ah, I saw that the first night you raced. You got the need for speed. You're on Dom's team now." Hector shook his hand and watched as they drove away. He might have to call in some favors to make sure nothing happened to those two.

 

 

"So who do we see next?" Brian asked, pulling into a drive-through so he could get something to drink. "You want something?"

Dom just shook his head.

"How you holding up? Pain okay?"

He nodded.

All right, so, obviously we were in a bad mood again. Or maybe not, it was always hard to tell with Dom -- when he was feeling grumpy, when he was just being his usual Mr. Silent self.

After Brian ordered Dom turned to him. "I want to see Jeff Larson. He's the one who tipped me to the trucks."

"Okay. Where do we find him?" He handed the money to the woman at the window. It felt weird to be driving Dom's car; he was unfamiliar with the controls and it had a lighter clutch than he was used to. But it was definitely a sweet ride.

"Long Beach. He should be coming off shift in about an hour."

"Probably take us at least that long to get down there."

"He's worked for Castelano before. Doubt he knows anything, but I got a bone to pick with him about why he didn't tell me the truckers were packing."

"I look forward to seeing that," Brian said cheerfully, but Dom didn't respond.

They drove in silence down the freeway until Dom gave him directions to the lot. It took less time than he'd thought -- the benefits of a really fast car and a little aggressive driving -- so they pulled up outside the security fence of the lot to wait, far enough away not to be seen but close enough that they could watch for him. Dom was starting to show signs of fatigue and pain, but Brian knew better than to bring it up again. It had been a long day already just driving around, and the last thing Dom really needed was to be working up a temper over Brian's nannying.

"So what is this guy... working on the side, or something else? Pretty good job to be risking it for a tip-off payment. You cut him in the deal?"

"He got a percentage from me, off the top of the money we split on the team. And a bonus from Castelano. Probably making himself a nice retirement home in Big Sur. Most of these guys are watching their pensions being drained away by the companies they work for, and the unions bleed 'em dry already. More and more of this business is being moved elsewhere. It's easy to buy someone off if you catch them at the right time."

Brian considered that. He forgot sometimes how aware Dom was of business things. When they'd given him Dom's jacket at the beginning the only picture he was able to create was of a stupid thug who knew how to put cars together and little else. Then when he'd started spending time with the Torettos he found out that Dom definitely had a mind for business. He and Mia had nearly come to blows a few times over the store, because both of them knew enough and had such strong opinions that if their ideas diverged, they could easily back up their decisions with facts and figures, and then it degenerated into a war of numbers and examples. Mia almost always won, though.

"So who approached him, you or Castelano? Does he know you beyond your voice on a telephone?"

"Yeah, he knows me." Dom didn't want to tell Brian that he'd known Jeff's brother in prison. Then they'd have to get into that again, something he was tired of. He saw the first of the crew coming through the gate and raised his chin. "Showtime."

Brian reached over him to open his door. It was an odd, thoughtful gesture that shocked Dom, and the fact that Brian didn't act like he'd done something special left him even more amazed. He watched Brian before getting out of the car: the way he walked around and stood by the door, waiting for Dom to get out, the way he looked at Dom with concern and interest. Brian was totally into the caretaker mode now, but it wasn't irritating -- he was just on autopilot, assuming the role naturally and not making a big deal of it.

When Dom saw Larson he nodded his head, and they walked quickly to catch up with him as he went for his car. Larson was just opening his big Ford truck when Brian put a hand out to shut the door, and he spun around, his mouth open. Then he saw Dom. "Hey. Hey, Dom. What are you doing here?"

"Got a place we can talk?"

Jeff spread his hands out as if saying, "as you see." Dom noticed a couple of older shipping containers about 500 feet off to the side, obviously out of commission. He jerked his head in that direction. Dom immediately rounded on Jeff when they got there, getting in his face, a tactic that always worked well for him. Even though Jeff was a tall guy, Dom had learned to use his size as a weapon, which a lot of people didn't know how to react to. Jeff backed up against the container.

"What the fuck were you thinking, not telling me the driver was carrying?"

Larson looked like a deer in headlights. "I didn't know, I swear."

"How could you not know? You were the one who loaded the fucking truck. They nearly killed two people on my team, and _me_. One of them is in critical condition at a hospital!"

"I did not fucking _know_ , man. I only found out they'd called in the feds after the fact. It's illegal for those guys to have a weapon. Not something they want to broadcast around."

His face was red, and Dom wasn't sure if it meant he was angry, afraid, or ashamed.

"Not only did we not get the load, we lost people. And now my sister is collateral till I pay them the money for the missing load. Do you get what I'm saying?" It was taking everything in him right now not to break Larson's neck like a twig. He was grateful for Brian's presence, because it was the one thing holding him back.

That news made Larson back down a little. "What do you mean? They took your sister?"

"Gregory has her. They came into my fucking house while I was in the hospital and kidnapped her."

"Oh, shit," he said, running a hand over his face. "God, Dom, I'm sorry. That's not right. I'm _sorry_."

All Dom could do was laugh harshly. _No fucking kidding it's not right._ "If you'd given me a heads-up, this whole thing could have been prevented."

"Castelano wanted at least one more truck. Even if I'd known... he can do a lot worse to me than you can."

"You a betting man? You wanna put a few bills on that?"

Brian realized that was his cue and he took a couple steps forward to get right behind Dom. Maybe this guy didn't know why Dom had been in Lompoc, and maybe he didn't know what kind of a temper he had, but Brian didn't actually want to experience his big moment of discovery when Dom knocked his teeth right down his throat.

But Dom didn't ease off, even with Brian's warning presence. "If anything happens to Mia, if anything happens to Vince, you're a dead man. Nothing Castelano can do will protect you, do you understand? That is on your hands."

Dom was nearly standing on tiptoes, jamming his finger into the guy's collarbone. Brian wasn't sure if he should just let Dom roll, or intervene before anything ugly happened. That beating Dom gave Johnny Tran was still jammed in his brain like a sliver of broken glass. He put a hand on Dom's shoulder. And, strangely, Dom backed off a little, coming down on his heels, holding his casted arm close to his chest.

"Dominic, I lost out on this deal too. I would never have wanted you guys to take that risk."

"That's very nice," he said sarcastically. "But your sister isn't a hostage, is she?"

"You cannot know how sorry I am. What can I do to make it right?"

"You can tell me where to find Castelano. I _know_ that fucking chicken-shit bastard will disappear."

Larson seemed to get more nervous about that than about Dom being in his face. "I don't know. Swear to god, Dominic, I don't know. I make it a point _not_ to know. This scares the shit out of me. Dealing with you is okay, but I let them call me, I don't call them, because I want to stay out of it. I could lose everything if someone catches me talking to any of you."

"You shoulda thought of that before." Dom wheeled around to Brian. "Let's go."

They started to walk off when Larson said, "Wait. Have you gone to the jewelry store?"

"What jewelry store?" Dom asked with suspicion.

"He has a shop that he uses to front his operation. Most of his deals he does out of the back room; keeps it quieter and he looks like a legit businessman. I don't think most of his... uh, vendors, know about it."

"How is it you do?" Brian asked. He'd been believing Larson's I-don't-know-nothin' story up till then.

"That's where my brother worked for him once." Larson glanced at Dom, then away. So now the connection made more sense to Brian. And why Dom didn't want to talk about it. Here Brian had been thinking that Dom told him more about his life than he did anyone else; obviously he'd been very wrong about that.

Larson wrote an address on the back of a business card. "Start here."

Dom shoved the card in his pocket. He didn't say thank you, just made a "come on" hand motion at Brian.

When they got in the car, Brian said, "Well, that was pleasant. I always enjoy meeting your friends." He started the engine and they drove off. Dom didn't say a word. After a few miles, Brian asked, "Where to next?"

"King."

"The guy Hector mentioned?"

"Yeah." Dom pointed him toward the freeway to head back toward East LA.

"So what's the deal with this guy? He got an Elvis fetish or something?"

Dom raised his eyebrows and pulled his head back.

"The name. Is it a nickname or a last name?"

"He just... he's Hawaiian. Big guy. Someone started calling him King Kamehameha when he was a kid, and King just stuck." He was quiet for a while and then he said, "Do me a favor when we get there. Don't stare at him. It'll make me look bad."

Brian frowned. "Okay, whatever." He had no idea what that meant, but it wasn't till they drove up to the miniature golf place that Dom explained himself.

"Dude weighs about three-hundred and fifty pounds. And he doesn't like to be gawped at. It makes him feel all self-conscious."

Brian rolled his eyes as he got out of the car. He looked around at the place -- it was like no mini golf course he'd ever seen. This thing was a car guy's wet dream: everything was shaped as if it was part of a race track, and all the little obstacles and traps were centered around classic cars and parts of cars. "This place is amazing," he said, tagging along behind Dom. "Is this his?"

"Nah. He manages it. Does a little... under the table trading, if you know what I'm saying. Gets busy on a Saturday night. He keeps everyone in line. Pretty much almost lives here, though. If you'd had a chance to race more, you would have seen him at a meet some time. He knows everyone."

"Huh." Sometimes Brian wondered if Dom even remembered he was still, technically, a cop, what with all the things he was telling -- and showing -- him. It was like he had just forgotten that they'd started this thing from different places, with different needs.

As they got to the entrance Brian noticed a dark sedan pull up in the parking lot adjacent to the course's lot. He'd seen it on the freeway entrance back in Long Beach, or one that looked like it. He decided to let it go and keep an eye out later; no use getting Dom worked up if he was wrong.

When they came in the lobby door Brian stopped dead in his tracks, but felt Dom shove the heel of his boot down hard on his instep. _Don't stare_. Behind the counter was obviously King, standing up slowly, like a human mountain rising up from the ground -- Dom neglected to mention that not only was he big around, but big in height: he dwarfed Brian's six-three frame easily, and made Dom look like a little kid.

"Yo, Dominic!" Even his voice was big. He stuck a meaty paw out and he and Dom did some elaborate handshake deal. "What can I do for you, bro?"

"This is my friend Brian," Dom said and turned to him. For some reason that surprised Brian, but he shook King's hand and tried to look casual. "I'm looking for someone -- you know Berto Castelano?"

It was really, really hard not to stare at him. At the very least he rarely met guys who were taller than him, but just the sheer volume of the man was something to gawk at.

King shook his head sadly, like just admitting knowing the guy was a bad thing. "Yeah, man, I know him." King looked Dom over, took in all the bruises and the cast, then glanced at Brian once more. "You gonna tell what happened to you first? You look like you been in a cage match with a truck."

"Actually, I kinda was." Dom smiled, the first time Brian had seen him do that since before Race Wars, and he felt inexplicably happy. "A business deal went south and things got a little hairy... then I was in a race and hit a truck, flipped the car."

"You're lucky to be here." King seemed genuinely distressed by the news.

"I am, but... uhh, there's some fallout to the business deal. Tony Gregory. My sister is... she's missing. Castelano's my first step to getting her back. You know what I mean."

He shook his head. "Shit. That don't do. Mia, she's a treasure. Gregory's a sick fuck, but I don't think he'll hurt her."

Dom just nodded. Brian was fascinated by how he was relating to King, the way this guy he'd never heard of or seen before seemed to know so much about Dom's life, and Dom about his. It brought home to Brian how little he really knew about Dominic, despite thinking he did because he'd read his jacket, studied him, slipped into his life. Dom moved with ease in the criminal world even though he wasn't what Brian considered a true criminal -- he'd done some very bad things, but he wasn't a bad guy, and that was a little harder to come to grips with. It made Brian wonder why Dom did such things at all: would he have made bad "business deals" with Tran or Gregory if his father had never died in that accident? Was he changed by his time in Lompoc, or had he always been like this?

Dom picked up a golf ball and tossed it up and down. "I heard Berto has some kind of store fronting his operation. You know anything?"

King busied himself rummaging around under the rental counter. "A jewelry store and an antique dealership. He's got somebody legit running the antique place, but the jewelry fronts his main business. Here you go. His business associates." He handed Dom a receipt with something scrawled on the back. "That info don't pan out, you come back and see me. I'll get the 411 -- the Armenian's bad business, but nobody hurts family for a business deal. It don't do."

Dom and King embraced across the counter, and King patted him on the back. Brian was once again struck by how physical Dom's interactions with other men frequently were. He was in their space in a rage or in their space out of affection -- but either way, he had no problem getting up close, no trouble touching or being touched, and seemed to take it for granted that others were the same as him. Over and over Brian had thought about the way Vince had kissed Dom on the head that one night; another time Leon had put his arms around Dom from behind and rocked him side to side when he'd been especially happy about something. Dom just welcomed it all in a way Brian could never imagine.

When they left, Dom said as they got in the car, "You did good. He seems to like you."

Brian scoffed. "How could you tell? He barely even looked at me."

Shrugging, Dom said, "He doesn't talk much. The fact that he made eye contact at all says a lot." He looked at the back of the receipt. "This address matches the one Jeff gave me. Oh, lookee -- phone numbers. Lucky us. And looks like... someone named Tiffany. Could that be a girlfriend's address and phone number?" He arched an eyebrow and Brian did the same in return.

"I take it King runs with a fence-needing crowd? That's why he knows all this stuff?"

"Everyone needs to move merchandise at some time."

Brian got the distinct impression Dom didn't want to talk about the criminal stuff. Like it embarrassed him or something. He cast his eyes back at the parking lot.

The dark car was still there, and this time he could see the guy in the driver's seat. Mid-thirties, short hair, tie. Very surely a cop.

Brian nodded to the left. "Check out John Law over there. He's been following us since the loading lot."

Dom glanced backward and raised an eyebrow. "One of Bilkins's boys, or does he play for the home team?"

"Hard to say. I don't recognize him. But he seems to think we're very pretty -- he can't take his eyes off us."

He slid his sunglasses on. "We are."

Brian grinned. "Yeah, but he's not in our league. And I don't date beneath me."

Dom smiled back at him, the first real genuine smile he'd allowed for Brian. "Think you can lose him?"

Pulling his sunglasses down to the end of his nose, Brian looked up from under his brows. "It would be my pleasure."

Dom waved his hand forward. "Then at your leisure."

He could have driven anywhere right then, elated at things finally feeling so much like before.

Brian hit the gas, tires squealing, that wonderful acrid smell of burned rubber swirling around them. He cut over on a residential street, cornered tightly and flew up an alley. He could see the sedan fishtailing behind him trying to make the turn and failing. By the time he reached the next street the sedan had just entered the alley. Zig-zagging through the streets, he made random lefts and rights until he finally lost sight of the sedan.

He thought Dom would enjoy this, but when he looked over, Dom's face was lined with a frown, and he was rubbing his forehead hard.

Brian pulled into a parking lot of the first place he found. "Are you okay?"

Dom was amazed that he could ask such a stupid question.

"I just... we're not getting closer to Mia and now we're playing games with the feds." He felt like his voice was going to crack in half; his throat was tight and his forehead felt like it had a vise around it. It wasn't that he thought Brian was goofing off by losing the tail, just that he had no control left, things were spiraling past him as he grabbed for them and he kept missing. "I feel like we're jerking off here or something."

"Dom, let's go back to the house. Please. We're both frazzled and tired and we're going to make mistakes. Maybe we should wait till tomorrow to go to this store."

"We don't have time to wait."

"You must have hit the wall by now. I can tell you're in pain. We've been driving nearly all day and much as I like driving, this isn't comfortable for either of us. We can get some food--"

"We do not have _time_ ," Dom growled. He wiped a hand over his face, regretting the show of temper. "Brian, if we miss our chance and something happens to her because I was tired or hungry... I'm about this far from losing it. If I stop now, I will. I have to see if I can get a step closer to Castelano. At least let me do that."

Brian sat back and sighed. "You're stubborn, you know that?"

"Like you can talk."

Brian rested his head back and turned to him. "You're not in good shape, Dom. How do we know that whoever's at the jewelry store won't be ready for a throwdown?"

"We don't."

Dom rubbed his face. Every time they talked about it, he wasn't sure he could keep it together. Or maybe it was because Brian kept trying to be supportive about it -- the attempt at being positive was almost too much to take. He was used to having to tough it out himself, to being the one in charge, the strong one, only able to lean on others in the most superficial way. Having Brian shoring him up like this was not just foreign, it was emotionally draining. He just didn't know how to be taken care of. How to be shown that kind of tenderness.

As he sat there trying to get a grip on himself, Brian leaned over and put his hand on Dom's shoulder. "We'll go there, but you have to promise me that afterwards, whatever we find out, we go home."

Dom slid his hand over Brian's and just held it there. He looked up at Brian and they watched each other for a while, listening to the sounds of traffic passing by. He felt more connected to Brian right now than he could remember feeling with anyone else since his dad, and even the weirdness of the night before wasn't ruining this sense of closeness. Brian's mere presence was like a balm and Dom wasn't entirely sure what to make of that.

Then he heard a kid outside the window give a snorting, sneering laugh and say, "Freakin' faggots." It was like a switch had been flipped. He threw the door open and started for the kid, who was suddenly quite alarmed when he saw Dom's size and bolted, skateboard in hand.

"What did you say?" Dom asked in his scary voice, the one he used to terrorize the neighborhood brats into behaving. The kid was not looking where he was going and ran right into Brian. With one quick motion Brian twisted the kid's arm around behind his back and clipped his feet out from under him, slamming him onto the hood of the car.

Dom repeated his question as the kid whined and thrashed, then pulled him up by the hair. Typical smartass stoner teenager. Dom backhanded him across the face, but Brian grabbed Dom's hand as he made another swing, pushing him away. "Dom!" he shouted, and shoved the kid off sideways. "Get a grip! Jesus, will you just chill?" He pointed a finger in the direction of the street and shouted at the kid, "LAPD, asshole, get the fuck out of here before I arrest you." The kid seemed to finally get that he'd stepped into something much more serious than he could have guessed; he sprinted away making comments about faggot cops, and Brian rounded on Dom.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Sorry," Dom said with absolutely no conviction. Brian wanted to smack him upside the head.

"You could get us arrested. Bystanders see two guys beating up some kid in a Del Taco parking lot and no black-and-whites around, they're going to be calling 911. Don't put us in this kind of trouble just because some dumbshit makes stupid remarks."

Dom shook his head and got back in the car, fuming, but at least he wasn't hitting anything. God, he was such a fucking hothead that sometimes Brian wondered how he'd managed to live to this age at all. Someone, somewhere should have busted a cap on him years ago or stuck him in a street fight.

When Brian started the engine he stared straight ahead, hands twisting over the wheel. "Look, I'm sorry. I know that embarrassed you, but you gotta let crap like that slide. We have way more important shit to be getting upset about. Where are we going?"

Dom reached beneath the seat and pulled out a map. "Near West Hollywood. Off Melrose."

"Christ, we're gonna end up covering Los Angeles county by the time we're done."

It didn't really bother him that Dom stayed silent the whole drive. He was running out of patience anyway. It took a lot to get Brian to want to walk away or pick a fight, and somehow Dom had managed to make him feel both ways in the span of a couple hours. He wasn't even sure if it was some kind of problem with the two of them, if this was all a hangover from the night before.

Yet he couldn't walk away, Brian knew that. He was too far gone, and he felt it in his bones: the same sense of resignation he'd had in the interrogation room the day it had all blown apart. A small dark voice in the back of his head warned him that once this was all done, he might never see Dom again. That he would never have access to this life, to the world he wanted to live in. So he couldn't turn away, even to give a miss to the exasperating crap. Everything, every moment, with Dominic counted right now.

 

 

They found the collection of shops near Melrose and parked. Brian scoped out the storefront for a while before letting Dom get out of the car. Something about the lack of activity in the area bothered him, he said, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

Inside they found a blond woman behind the counter. It definitely wasn't much of a jewelry store -- nothing spectacular stood out, what was there was mostly the same kind of merchandise you'd see at a mall store catering to young kids freshly engaged. When she asked, "Can I help you... gentlemen?" Brian pushed past her, and a door marked Private near the back hallway opened. A short, dark-haired man with the style of a total Guido came out, straightening his tie. He knew exactly what they were there for and tried to appear intimidating by puffing out his chest and shooting his cuffs, but the idea of it almost made Dom laugh.

"Where's Berto?" Dom asked gruffly.

"I don't know what you mean--" but he didn't get to finish his sentence because Dom grabbed his collar and hauled him into the room he'd just come out of. It hurt his shoulder something fierce, but he didn't really give a shit. Now he was pumped full of adrenaline and ready to get this over with. He shoved him into the chair.

"I want to know where Alberto Castelano is. Where's he hiding?"

Brian closed the door behind them and stood in front of it, crossing his arms over his chest. For white bread, he didn't do too bad at styling himself the hired help when he needed to.

"What's your name?" Brian asked.

Dom wondered if he really expected an answer, or if he was trying to play good cop, bad cop.

"Mr. Castelano's not here."

"No shit," Brian said with a harsh laugh. "Got any other startling information?"

"Fuck you." Dom stepped toward him, leaning forward, hand out, as if he was going to punch him. The guy flinched, leaning back. "I know who you are. You're the con who's jacking those electronics rigs. Trust me, Castelano doesn't want to see you now, _not_ since you fucked up and brought everything down on him."

Dom hated when it came to using weapons, but nothing would motivate a guy like this to talk except fear. He slid his hand into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a switchblade, though he didn't flick it open. Now the guy was paying attention.

"Then you probably know I'm just an ex-con rent-a-thug whose only success in life is street racing a bunch of kids with tricked-out cars. And that I don't have much of a future, so I'm not all that concerned with throwing it away over messing someone up for information."

The guy looked at Brian, then at Dom. "You wouldn't use that."

"No?" He turned to Brian. "What do you think, Brian? Would I use this?"

The last thing Brian wanted to do was show how distinctly freaked out he was in front of this guy, but he was: totally, completely wigged about Dom having a weapon of any kind, especially considering the state he was in.

Brian tried a cool shrug. He didn't think it came off, though.

"See?" Dom said. "Even my friend doesn't trust me." He flicked the blade open.

"I don't know where he is. I'm only in contact with him by phone."

Brian scoffed at that. "Bullshit. You're running the back end, you know where he lives, where he parks his car, where he goes for pussy. Save yourself some trouble."

"What are you afraid of?" Dom asked. "You're out of it. All I'm asking is to talk with him."

"Gregory's plenty to be afraid of. He's already been sniffing around, wanting answers, looking for the missing money. And the fuckers who work for him don't carry little blades, either. I'll take my chances."

Dom laughed, that weird, dark laugh he did sometimes, and it never failed to disturb Brian. As much as he believed Dom was a good guy at heart, there was a scary, black place he could go to. Brian was fully aware he had only begun to see that side of Dom. "You're afraid of some guys who might not even show up. Gregory's got my sister until I pay him back what I owe, so I'm... what do you call it? Motivated."

"You got no clue who you're dealing with. These people are insane motherfuckers. And I'm not just talking about his inner circle of old world buddies. I'm talking about the street punk shitheads he hires for dirty work."

Dom held his arms out dramatically, just the way he'd done in front of Brian a half-dozen times before. "There you go. We should just give up, since they're such scary guys."

"You think you're such hot shit, Toretto. You're nothing, you got nothing. Whatever you think you can do, it's nothing like what _they'll_ do. They're ten times worse."

"Oh, I don't know," Brian said. "I can think of lots of things he could do to you. Dom kind of gets out of control." He gave a dramatic shiver. "Messy."

"See, I'm a grief-crazed Italian. With a switchblade." He leaned in again, sticking the edge of the blade under the guy's jaw.

"And you think that's as scary as a bunch of coked-up thugs with Glocks?"

"Oh, yeah." Dom's voice got really quiet, and he spoke methodically. "See, those guys? Some brother or chulo with a gat, they'll just shoot your ass. It's over like that." He snapped his fingers loudly in front of the guy's face to make him jump. "But me? I'm a grief-crazed Italian with a blade. Go all sick-house on you, make it last. Spend some time cutting nice intricate patterns on your skin till I get bored and then I'll slice into it and peel it back from you like you're fruit. In fact, I'm wondering if I can do it all in one... long... strip. What do you think?" He ran the edge along the guy's neck, drawing a thin line of blood. Brian closed his eyes.

"All right! All right!" The guy's hand flew to his neck. "He'll be at the store tomorrow. The antique dealer. He has a package to pick up, a deal from customs that he can't beg off on." He drew his hand away and stared at his blood-smeared palm.

"See, now that was easy. And you're going to be extra friendly, right, and not mention we were here? Because now that we know," Dom pulled out the paper that King had given him, "your address, phone numbers, license number and, oh hey, maybe this is a girlfriend's number? Tiffany? Now that we're pals, be really easy to pay a return visit."

As they left he screamed at them, "He's not going to tell you anything! You're nothing compared to them, nothing!"

They just kept walking, letting him work off his rage. He'd be too busy sweating and wondering if he should just skip town, so it wasn't much of a worry whether or not he'd come clean to Castelano.

But when they got in the car Brian turned on Dom and yelled at him, "What the _fuck_ is wrong with you? Where the hell did you get that blade?"

"It was in the glove box."

"You've been carrying it around all this time? Jesus, Dom, did you not get the message that you're not supposed to be carrying weapons of any kind around?" Brian ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at it. "Fuck me. I can't believe I'm stupid enough to hook up with someone as self-destructively idiotic as you and try to help. You really are everything they said."

For some reason that seemed to get through to Dom. "Fear is the only thing you can use against someone like that."

"There's other ways to get what you want. Jesus."

"No, Brian, not in this world there isn't."

Dom turned away and Brian put the car in gear. They drove back to Dom's house in steaming silence, but the long drive gave them both time to calm down.

There was a part of Dom that wanted to explain everything to Brian, to try to make him understand just how he'd found himself in this world, but he didn't really know what to say. Brian was a still a cop, still believed in the right causes, and he didn't know how to make him understand that this wasn't what he wanted, just what he'd found it necessary to do.

By the time they got near Dom's neighborhood, he glanced over and said, "I'm sorry."

"For what? Being a switchblade-wielding psycho, or for making me drive around in this heinous traffic all day?" There was a hint of a smile when he said it, though.

"For all of this. For... this world. You must be disappointed by everything. By me. You arrest the people we've seen today. You arrest people like me. This is... my world whether I wanted it or not, I guess, and I'm sorry that you have to see it."

Brian pulled in to the driveway. There was still crime scene tape everywhere and the front door was cordoned off. "I knew that going in." He killed the engine. "And it's not your world. You're more than this. But you have to... you have got to step back. You're gonna forget that you _are_ more and do something stupid. You have the worst temper I've ever seen on a human being, but you're not a bad guy."

"If I was a good guy, we wouldn't be here, would we?"

Brian opened Dom's door again and they both went around to the back of the house. The door had been closed, but it wasn't locked. There were things scattered around the porch, though there was no obvious sign of break-in. Brian went in carefully and edged his way in to the kitchen, not certain he wanted Dom to see it if things looked really bad. But they didn't: just a few overturned items on the counter, a chair on the floor, some food still out on the table. Dom came in behind him, stone-faced and silent. Brian wasn't sure which side of him was creepier -- psycho killer or dead-to-the-world guy. They made their way carefully through the house, Dom picking up anything that was turned over, flipping on a light here and there.

"Let's go upstairs. I really want you to get some sleep. I'll go out and get some food and clean things up here. Please. You really need some rest."

It looked like Dom was going to try to fight him at first, but then he seemed to just crumble in front of Brian, nodding, allowing Brian to steer him upstairs to his bed. He sat down and took off his jacket, tossing it on a chair, and then rubbed a hand over his head. "Maybe this wasn't such a great idea."

"I know. It seems like it, but... let's just stick to the plan." As he walked out the door, Brian said over his shoulder, "Sleep, or I'll come back and use that blade on you myself."

Brian felt like he was about at the same place Dom was, and that he might collapse at any given moment. He went into Mia's room. One of her shirts was on the unmade bed, but there were no signs of struggle or leaving in a hurry. He checked all the rooms downstairs, but no signs there, either, nor any real clues to her time of disappearance. At least it didn't look like any weapons were used. Dialing Tanner's number, he sat down on the couch, remembering all the times he'd sat here with Dom and Letty and everyone else, watching TV, playing video games. Remembering Jesse doing lines from his favorite movies. After four rings Brian got Tanner's voice mail, so he left a short message that they were back and so far, nothing, but that he had hopes for tomorrow. He didn't ask about the tail.

 

 

When Dom woke up he was confused for a minute about where he was. The last few days seemed like a big blur of unfamiliar and familiar places and he had a hard time adjusting to the fact that he was in his own bed again. It had gotten dark while he'd slept and it was quiet in the house, so he assumed Brian had gone out. He took a piss, splashed some water on his face, and really looked at himself for the first time in a while. Bruises still vivid, dark circles under his eyes. He looked like someone who shouldn't be walking around.

No wonder Brian had freaked out about his behavior -- he knew just what Dom was capable of doing, and since Dom was so clearly at the end of his rope, there was no guarantee that he was even on the same side of the court as sane anymore. Freaking was a pretty goddamn mild response.

Dom went into Mia's room and picked up the shirt that was laying on the bed, twisted it around in his hands, then sat down. The room smelled of that perfume she loved, of hairspray and clean laundry. Of Mia. Even though it didn't look like anything had happened to her here, he was still miserable thinking of the possibilities. Knowing the damage he had allowed to be inflicted upon her.

No matter what Brian wanted him to believe, this was his fault. Every step he'd taken along the way in the years since his father's death had led here, and anything could happen to Mia now. Jesse's blood was on his hands, too, and he wasn't sure how to cope with that, to have it make sense.

He was still sitting there holding her shirt in his hands, when Brian came in. But it was a long time before he came upstairs, and when he did, Dom hadn't moved. It felt like he was walking through water, so slow and weighted down he couldn't get anywhere no matter how hard he tried. It was easier just to sit down, give up.

"Hey," Brian said when he came in. "I was expecting you to be sleeping." He leaned against the door, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I was. Just... woke up and everything felt kind of weird." Which made no sense at all of course, but Dom had no idea what else to say.

"I get that."

"It looks like any other day, like she just changed her mind about what to wear and then took off. She never did make her bed or put her clothes away. Drove Dad nuts. He could never figure out how it was that his son was the tidy, responsible one and his daughter was the slob."

Brian chuckled. "I never knew that."

Dom looked up at him. Of course Brian wouldn't know that; how much did they know about each other at all? Despite some of the things that Brian had told him in the past few days, they didn't know each other, not really. Brian had seen some of Dom's world today and Dom was pretty sure he hadn't exactly loved it; Dom only knew the surface aspects of Brian's life, not what made him a cop, what made him _want_ to do the things he did. But that had always been the weird thing: from the moment he'd first met Brian, he felt that he knew him. Like they'd been part of each other's lives forever. Even when he'd found out Brian was a cop, it was as if the worst part was that he should have known, because Brian had always been part of his life.

Dom rose and picked up some of the things on her dresser, put them down. He closed a necklace in his shaking fist, trying to get some control of himself; then he sat back hard on the bed, head down.

Brian sat next to him. "It's a beautiful necklace." It was an elegant ivory oval with a small gold cross on top. It looked very old.

"Mama gave it to her shortly before she died. Her grandmother had given it to her. Mia hardly ever wore it because she was always afraid of losing it."

"How did your mother die?"

"Uhh... it was childbirth. Hard to believe, but... she had a lot of miscarriages after me. Then Mia came along, and even though that was a tough pregnancy, for a while I think they thought God had smiled on them again. But then she had more, and... she was never the same after that, really. Weak and just kind of sad all the time, even though she loved us. That whole big Catholic family thing... I don't know. The last one looked like it was going to be okay, but the baby died right before she was due. I had a baby brother but he died, and so did my mother. Complications, they said, but sometimes I wondered if she was just too beaten down by it all."

"God, Dom, I'm so sorry."

"It's harder when you're a kid. You don't understand what's going on and all you can do is worry and be afraid. I think Mia thought it was her fault. Like she was what brought it on. I was older and could take care of Mia, but... I couldn't take care of my mother. Or my father, really. He kind of disappeared inside himself for a long time, but the racing... uhh, it kind of brought him back eventually. But all of that... forced me to grow up before I should have. It was just my job to take care of everyone."

Brian knew what Dom was thinking -- that he hadn't taken care of Mia, in the same way he hadn't taken care of his mother or Jesse, and now she was missing. Nothing he could say would ease Dom's guilt. Now that he understood what other burdens Dom had been carrying all these years, he knew that his words were hollow.

After all this time Dom was finally breaking down -- the way his hands shook, the way his mouth was pinched in a tight line. He'd been teetering on the edge of losing reality all day, and now it was like his emotional core was giving way, crumpling underneath him.

"Hey," Brian said and put his palm to Dom's cheek. Dom didn't even flinch or pull away, just acted like it was normal. "I know you think all this is your fault, and that you screwed it up. But what you did and what you are... those aren't the same things. Bad choices don't equal a bad person. I know that if you could, you'd trade places with every single person who's been hurt in this thing."

"You saw what my world is today. If I could have, I'd have killed that guy to get what I wanted. We didn't even find out his name, but I'd have iced him if it put me one step closer to Mia. You've seen what I am, Brian, you know I'm not a good guy."

"Yeah, I did see all that today. But I know a thing or two about people, and I know you have a good heart. I can see it in the way you talk about Mia, about your mother. I saw it in the way you took care of Jesse and the rest of the team. I'd never waste my time on someone bad, Dom. Never."

Dom shook his head, and he was obviously fighting back tears, so Brian pulled his head into the crook of his neck, slipped an arm around Dom's back. He'd never done anything like this in his life, but now seemed like the time to go for broke. He knew guys like Dom, how hard it was for them to give an inch and let themselves look weak or needy. The fact that he was letting Brian see him so vulnerable meant more than Brian could even acknowledge; he knew the significance of such a thing because he had so rarely done it himself.

"I'm sorry, Dom. I'm really sorry about all of this. If I'd just said something earlier, if I'd only thought it through... I should have never left Mia alone."

Dom's hand rested on his hip, but it didn't feel at all like the night before. Brian smoothed his hand over the back of Dom's head. It was terrifying to feel this way, to touch someone like this, to be touched by them. Something way beyond any romantic or sexual encounters he'd had.

Brian wanted to deny this, wished that this wasn't what he felt, especially after the crazy swings of behavior Dom had exhibited today. But he knew now that this was everything he'd feared and wanted: he was in love with Dominic, too much in love to back out no matter what face he showed him.

When Dom pulled away he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm and gave Brian a weak smile. But Brian didn't take his hand away from his face, instead he rested his forehead against Dom's. "I bet Mia would be glad if you slept here. You need to rest some more and if it helps, stay here with her things. That would make her smile. I picked up some food but it'll keep for later."

"Okay. Just... be here when I wake up."

"Not going anywhere, dumbass. I already told you that." He pulled away and they both smiled.

"I don't know why you're still here, but I'm grateful. More than you know."

"I do know. Believe me."

Dom nodded. "I do. This time, I do."

 


	4. On the Ropes

 

> **Beneath the city two hearts beat  
>  ** **Soul engines runnin' through a night so tender**  
>  **In a bedroom locked in whispers of soft refusal**  
>  **And then, surrender**

 

 

Mia's bedroom in the morning was hot and stuffy from the breaking sunlight that poured through the east-facing window, so Dom figured it was relatively early when he awoke. He stretched and rolled over, bumping up against Brian. Clearly Brian had taken his request to be here when he woke up more literally than Dom had intended.

He watched Brian for a while. One fist was curled under his cheek, and he was up against the edge of the bed as far as he could go, as if he'd come in and tried his hardest not to make his presence felt. He looked like a little boy, in a way. Dom could almost imagine reaching over and touching his face, tracing his fingers over the parted lips. Kissing them.

He got out of bed quickly and went downstairs to get something to wrap his cast in, then took a shower. This weird energy was getting a lot weirder the longer they were around each other, and the disturbing signals they were constantly sending one another were making Dom jumpy and angry. What did Brian think -- that since Dom was at ease with physical contact, it was okay to sleep in the same bed with him? That feeling comfortable with such a wacked level of emotional connection was an everyday thing? Dom didn't get what Brian could be imagining in that crazy head of his, unless all this -- his support, his friendship, his devotion -- had more to do with entirely different motivations than just helping him find Mia. And that was pretty freaking weird.

After he'd dressed he went back downstairs to see about food. The blinking light on the answering machine caught his eye. Shit. He hadn't even thought about that: no one would have been able to get in touch with him because his cell phone had been destroyed in all the chaos of that day. The cops would have taken it from him, anyway, even if it had survived. Worse, he'd completely forgotten about the store; most of the messages were from his cousin Vic, desperately wanting to know where Mia was and what was going on. It sounded like she'd at least told him about Jesse's death and that she had been tasked with taking care of the arrangements, but beyond that, he wouldn't know the vital details. Like the fact that she was missing, like the fact that Dom had been under arrest and in the hospital. There was a message, too, from Leon, confused and almost frantic, telling Mia to give Dom the message that they were headed north and they were okay. He couldn't remember Leon's cell number at all; it had been in his auto-dial on the phone; he would have to look around to see if it was written down somewhere. Maybe at the garage.

And that was another thing he'd have to take care of. Jesus, he'd forgotten about every one of his responsibilities by following this stupid plan. He should never have taken off like that. Sitting down hard on one of the kitchen chairs, Dom ran his hand over his head, taking stock of what he needed to do. It wasn't enough to have to cope with what happened to Mia, but there was all this other bullshit to consider: people needing him, business to deal with, legal entanglements... it was too much. He and Brian were forced to wait until the afternoon to go find Castelano, so now Dom didn't have any excuses to avoid dealing with it all. How did he even explain this to anyone, though?

Making coffee was one of those calming things he liked to do, so he focused on that. Mia had always been the one to restock the kitchen, so of course there was hardly anything here. He grabbed some cereal and milk that was probably close to going sour and forced himself to eat breakfast, but it was hard choking anything down. In the fridge were two fast food bags, probably the stuff Brian had brought back with him last night. He wondered if Brian had taken the time to eat anything in them, or if he had just come back upstairs to get some sleep himself. He wasn't going to get far if all he did was down a shake or a french fry or two.

It couldn't have been easy for the guy: suddenly put in the position of being the one holding it all together, dealing with Dom's horrendous temper, praying he could keep his badge and the life he'd thrown away trying to help Dom out. Regardless of the reasons, Brian's willingness to stick it out completely confounded Dom.

And so did his own feelings about Brian. For that brief, faltering moment he could imagine reaching across that bed, pulling Brian to him, kissing him. Maybe he'd even wanted to actually do that, just a little. Or a lot, and _had_ wanted to for a really long time. What had been the worst part of finding out that Brian was a cop: that he'd been betrayed, or that he thought it was the end of whatever friendship was growing between them? Dom didn't like thinking about the answer to that, because knowing meant admitting how he felt about Brian. Accepting that he wanted more than just friendship.

But Dom didn't, he couldn't; he wasn't a faggot. He didn't love guys that way, could never even imagine wanting to be with a guy that way. And Brian had been in love with Mia anyway, just as Dom was with Letty. He wasn't supposed to let his emotions run wild just because the situation was insane.

 _Bullshit_.

Those were all just excuses. This didn't have anything to do with fucking or girlfriends or anything else; it was all about Brian, how Brian made him feel and how much he needed Brian. Relationships with anyone else didn't matter, because only Brian made him feel like this. Dom rubbed at his face, weary of thinking about it. How were you supposed to stay focused on the important stuff when all this other crap kept coming up? He got up and put his things in the dishwasher, then listened to the messages again. Writing down numbers with his left hand was awkward and seemed to take forever.

He was on the phone with Vic when Brian came downstairs, his jeans barely hanging on his lean hips and halfway unbuttoned. He was scratching at his head, hair standing up in little spirals, and Dom had to stifle a laugh. Maybe not such a morning person after all. Vic was still fairly frantic and it took a while to calm him down and explain what was happening; while he talked Brian puttered around the kitchen, searching out the bowls and silverware. Dom waved at the coffee pot and Brian poured himself some, then refreshed Dom's cup.

Dom tried not to watch him, forcing himself not to think about what it was like to find Brian in bed next to him that morning. What Vic was saying he only half-heard, and when he hung up at last, Brian was tidying the kitchen, acting as if he didn't want to look at Dom, either.

"Who was that?" he asked, wiping a sponge over the counter.

"My cousin. He runs the store when Mia and I aren't there. His dad was my mom's brother; the store was originally in their family. I'm surprised you didn't know that -- Mia's talked to him when you were here."

Brian's shy, embarrassed smile made him look so young. "I guess I did... I just didn't put it together. Still learning the family ins and outs." He turned away, pretending to busy himself with replacing things on the counter, closing off even before they'd really started talking. "Never had much practice with all that stuff."

Dom wanted to walk over and slap everything out of his hands, make Brian look him in the eye. He hated it when Brian turned away like that; it reminded him way too much of his own tendency to be remote and moody. He wanted Brian to be... above that, somehow. It was too easy to hate in others the things you hated most in yourself.

"Sorry," Dom said gruffly. "No reason for you to remember my family shit." He turned the chair backwards and sat down, resting his arm on the back. "There were messages from him, scared and confused. He didn't know Mia was... missing and that the store hadn't been opened for a couple days. Lost inventory, not a good thing. Had to ask the guy who works for him to pull extra hours and that costs."

Brian finally turned to face him, crossed his arms over his naked chest. His skin was so tanned and smooth, and Dom stared at the light trail of hair that led from his navel down under the band of his shorts. His bruises were fading now, but still the yellow, red, and purple contrasted harshly with his skin color.

"I should have thought to check the machine when we came in. Guess I'm not a very good cop, am I?"

"We were tired; don't beat yourself up. I forgot about all of it: the garage, the store, everything. Mia would slap me."

"Anything else on the machine? Anyone useful?"

"Leon called. He said... uh, he and Letty were okay, heading north. Asked me to call him on the cell, but mine's gone. Don't remember his number. He must be freaking."

"I can call Tanner, have him pull a log. Should be able to get it in a couple hours."

Dom hesitated, tapped the cast against the back of the chair. "Uh... can I ask you another favor?"

Brian straightened; the look on his face made him appear confused. "Of course. You know that." Even after all this time they were still so awkward about the important things.

"Hearing Leon's voice reminded me that... I really need to talk to Vince. Or at least find out about him. Is there any way?"

Brian was dismayed by the way Dom asked, almost as if he was pleading. Though not like when they were arguing about going after Jesse; this was different. That same aggrieved shading to his voice he'd had last night -- an anguish Dom couldn't leave behind but that he rarely spoke of. Like he might search and search but would never find absolution -- not for the real crimes he'd committed, but for some other kind of transgression, something far more personal. Brian didn't understand it, but he was starting to comprehend that it was driving a lot of Dom's behavior.

"Yeah. Yeah, sure. If we can't get through to the room I can at least get a status report from Tanner. We're not due at this antique place till one, right? So we've got time; maybe we can even see if it's possible to visit. Though without my shield... I don't know. Hard to say."

Dom glanced up, face relaxing, that permanent furrow in his brow easing off a bit. It was that in-charge thing again, the root of everything that motivated Dom. Without knowing what was happening to the people he loved -- the people he took care of -- he was short-tempered and scared. Dom was afraid for everyone, not just Mia, and being unable to do the job he believed he had to was making him lose complete control. Brian wished there was some way to get through to him, to tell him to let go, but Dom wasn't listening.

"And there's Jesse." He didn't meet Brian's eyes when he said it.

"I know. I know. I'll find out what's the what there, too. But since he's a homicide victim there might not be that much we can do till they work their investigation. Things in real life, they move a lot slower than what we might expect."

Dom got up abruptly and Brian almost flinched back, afraid Dom was going to have another fit like yesterday. But he only came over to stand in front of Brian, pressing his fingertips lightly on Brian's left side. "Those bruises... they still look pretty bad. Maybe we should get you to a hospital, get some x-rays. What if something's been broken all this time?"

Brian sucked in a breath at Dom's touch. "Nah, man, I'm fine. Just got hammered on, is all."

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" Brian moved away from the touch, but Dom didn't drop his hand.

"That. It's okay for you to fuss over me, but the minute someone tries to help or shows you concern, you just shut down."

Brian shook his head. "I'm not. I'm not... shutting down. There's just nothing to say. I'm fine."

Dom put his hand on Brian's side again and stared, almost daring him to move. This was really freaking Brian out now. Was Dom just fucking with him to get Brian to leave him alone, or was he trying to punish Brian for having the nerve to sleep on the same bed next to him?

Dom's voice rolled over Brian's skin like the purr of an engine, making it prickle. "Sometimes it's like I have no idea who you are. One minute you're one person, the next you're someone else. You close whatever's the real you off."

Brian couldn't quite meet his eyes, just sort of glanced sideways, but mostly he stared at Dom's feet. He didn't want to push him away, but it scared him too much, not understanding what Dom wanted, what he believed. There was so much more baggage here than they could handle, anyway.

"Hey, look," Brian said, turning his head away. "I'm sorry about last night. Didn't mean to freak you out, I just thought that maybe you might need something in the night. Plus I had no idea where to sleep and the couch seemed too far away."

"Yeah, in case I needed something." Dom had a weird smile on his face and a sarcastic tone in his voice. "Wasn't a problem."

They watched each other for a minute, until Brian pushed away from the counter and slid past Dom, their arms brushing each other's. Now he could identify that smile: it was taunting, with something harder and meaner underneath it. Like Dom really was trying to make him do something that would give him an excuse to punch Brian.

"I'll go call Tanner after I take a shower. You can finish up what you were doing." He took the stairs two at a time, then grabbed his t-shirt off the bed and went into the bathroom, leaning up against the door. His heart was going about a hundred and twenty. This was the weirdest situation he could ever have dreamed up and he still couldn't quite believe he'd managed to stick himself right in the middle of it.

Who was he kidding? He'd never have been able to dream this up even if he'd had a hundred lifetimes. Truth really was stranger than fiction, at least around Dom.

 

 

When Brian finally came back downstairs Dom was looking through the business accounts, not really paying attention to them but trying to keep himself distracted so he wouldn't go nuts. Brian sat down on the other side of the table and for a second Dom couldn't figure out what was wrong with the picture till he realized that Brian was wearing one of his t-shirts.

"I gotta stop at my house or something. My clothes reek and I didn't bring enough with me. Hope you don't mind."

Dom shook his head. "Or you could do laundry."

"Like that will happen."

"Gotta be done sometime."

Brian didn't respond, but there was a tiny smile there somewhere, Dom was sure of it.

"So I talked to Tanner. We can't go see Vince, but he had an update. They've moved him down to serious condition, which means he's still in bad shape but he'll make it. They didn't have to amputate, and that was the doctor's big fear."

Dom stared down at the book, the figures blurring in front of him. "Jesus."

"Yeah. But he's gonna be okay. He's a federal prisoner, though. That means we won't be able to see him for a while. If we get this situation sorted out... then maybe things will be better."

More weight added to the burden. And the fun just kept on coming.

"And there's news about Leon and Letty. They got tagged up in Bakersfield; PD called them in. Tanner's got them keeping tabs but nothing else right now. They're just hanging back and watching. Apparently Leon was taking her to some family up there."

Dom glanced away, feeling the shame rise up inside him, hot and sharp. "So they're safe?"

"For now. But I hope they don't try to leave; PD will come down hard on them."

Shaking his head, Dom said, "I'm a great boyfriend. I didn't even know she had family in Bakersfield." How could he blame her for the hatred that filled her eyes when he'd seen her last? He'd been the self-absorbed lover with so little true interest in his girl that he couldn't even bother to find out about the rest of her life, the part that didn't relate to him.

"Why would you? That's not like a sign of being a crappy significant other or anything just because you don't know about some random cousins in other cities. Did she ever tell you about them?"

"That's not the point. I've been with her for _years_ , but I don't know everything about her life." Maybe Brian didn't understand what that meant, because he didn't have anyone. Or deliberately chose not to connect to people on that level.

"Whatever," Brian said, shrugging. "I asked about Jesse."

He just left it like he was saying that to hurt Dom. As if talking about Jesse was just a way to change the subject. For a wary moment Dom stared at him, wondering what he was supposed to do: prompt him, or just wait to be handed out the information like Brian was his savior? He must have been scowling because Brian sat back, looking sheepish.

"It's worse than I expected. Did you... did you hit Lance Nguyen with your car and leave him for dead?"

Okay, he wasn't expecting that to come up any time soon. "Uhh... You could say that, but it wasn't really what happened. He came flying up the hill just when I cornered and I hit him. His bike went over the side. He was moving when I left."

"But you left him there without calling 911 or anything. For someone else, a passerby, to find him."

"Yeah, I left the psycho fuck who shot my friend and tried to shoot me, my sister, and the _cop who was with us_. What do you want me to say?"

"They've got him in custody and they've filed charges. But that part of his story... it doesn't help us a lot."

"Surprised he's alive, considering."

"Yeah, well, he may be paralyzed." Brian said it like Dom was supposed to care. Or feel guilty, he wasn't sure.

"Do you want me to care about that? I didn't do it deliberately. I wanted him dead and I had good reason, but the way it played out was his fault."

"PD isn't inclined to cut you any slack right now. Jesus, Dom, couldn't you have told me? When we talked about Tran, at least? Do you have to keep holding back on all this criminal shit, stuff I need to know? How can I help you?"

At last Dom got what was bothering Brian: he'd believed all that bullshit about Dom being some kind of secretive, dangerous criminal and thought he'd proved them all wrong, but now it looked like Dom was just back to being the cagey crook they said he was. Instead of making him feel sympathetic or understanding, though, figuring that out just pissed Dom off more. What did Brian want from him? You couldn't just decide someone was good and make them that way because you believed it. Especially when Brian barely gave his real self away, what right did he have to expect Dom to bare his soul to him, tell him every secret, every experience?

"I thought," Dom said slowly, deliberately, "it was more important to try to help you deal with what happened to _you_. You're the one who killed Tran. I just had a little traffic altercation with the guy who killed my friend."

At least that shut him up. Only for a short time, though; after a lengthy silence he said, "I told you, it wasn't the thing you want to make it out to be. I got him before he could take me out. That's it. I'm not going to lose sleep over it."

"And what did you tell Tanner?"

"About Lance?" Dom nodded. "I told him that Lance was a psycho fuck who shot your friend, nearly shot your sister and you, and almost killed a cop."

Brian was glaring at him, those pale blue eyes nearly glowing with righteous indignation. Dom kind of liked him that way.

"So what about Jesse?"

"There's an autopsy scheduled. Sometimes it can take weeks; it's not like in the movies at all. They won't release a vic's body until after an autopsy; they could theoretically keep it for longer. Everything depends on the investigation. They're going to need our statements, too, to make the charges stick."

Dom couldn't even find a way to react to any of this. Vince in federal custody in a hospital, Jesse reduced to a piece of evidence as if he'd never been a human being, Leon and Letty on the run, Mia somewhere out there frightened and confused... this was his accomplishment, this was his legacy. "Don't talk about him like that. Like he's just a _thing_." He swept a hand over all the stuff on the table. His coffee cup, the books, the phone, salt shaker, all went crashing to the floor.

Brian just sat there impassively. He was getting tired of Dom's temper, that much was obvious. Though it seemed that Brian knew it was part of the show, so he wasn't going to buy into it. By now they had their steps down to a dance: _Brian explains, I freak out, he cleans up the mess._ Just another piece of weirdness in this whole bizarre picture puzzle.

Except that this time Brian wasn't putting up with it. He knelt down and gathered the shards of the coffee cup, saying in a grating, edgy voice, "Remind me why I'm here. So I can use my access _as a cop_ to get information and clearances you could never get? Or because you don't have anyone left to worship you like the little god that you are, and clean up after you and put up with your temper tantrums?"

That, finally, seemed to bring Dom up short, and though Brian wasn't thrilled to hit below the belt, he was just plain tired. Dom looked stunned and more than a bit sheepish, then helped him clean up. He didn't say anything, though. When he stood up Brian said, "We got to be all the way to Santa Monica before one. So why don't you get yourself ready?"

Dom nodded and went upstairs; Brian watched him go and when he was out of eyesight, sat down and put his head in his hands. What the hell did it all mean anymore? Dom was either falling apart emotionally or hostilely challenging him; psycho one minute and the next, gentle and soft. Brian wanted to believe his friendship was unwavering in the face of Dom's problems, but he couldn't tell what he was doing anymore. Was it really being a friend to let Dom get away with this shit? Or would it have been better to leave him alone, let him take care of his own messes? Maybe he wasn't doing Dom any favors by picking up after him; after all, that's what everyone else had been around for, and look what happened there. Or maybe Dom just wanted to push him past his limits, test him out to see how far he'd go. Even, possibly, to drive him away because he couldn't forgive Brian, or himself, for having these weird feelings.

The worst part was that Brian didn't know how to avoid playing into it. He simply didn't know Dom well enough to truly get how to handle him; Brian had never been around anyone so volatile and emotional before. They were ice and fire: Dom had been able to melt the frozen shield Brian had worked so hard to build around himself, but Brian didn't know how to cool Dom down at all. So this is what love is, he thought: compromise and forgiveness and endurance on a daily basis, trying to find a balance between heat and cold, closeness and distance, and why wasn't there a goddamn road map for any of this? It wasn't like life had prepared him for this; on the contrary, he had pretty much been given all the wrong information on how to love and be loved, so here he was, floundering around, trying to figure out how the hell you were supposed to deal with loving someone who clearly didn't want you to.

When Dom came downstairs he was wearing that blue v-neck that Brian had picked up for him the day they'd skipped out of the hospital. A concession to Brian's feelings? Hard to tell with Dom, the way he was so up and down. But Brian liked looking at him in it, regardless.

He helped Dom get the jacket on and said, "No switchblades today, I hope?" Then he clipped his belt holster on the back of his jeans and pulled his t-shirt over it.

"Nope. Gonna rely on the power of my own fists. Especially the one with the plaster enhancement."

"You could be Cast-Man."

"In your comic book or mine?"

"Mine, of course. You'd be the sidekick."

Dom snorted. "You should be so lucky. And anyway, who would you be? Mr. Stunning?"

Brian paused on his way out the door and looked over his shoulder. Dom wore an expression that seemed to indicate he'd just said something he didn't mean to. Brian decided to take that as a good sign as he locked the door behind them.

 

 

Alberto Castelano scanned the street behind the antique shop for any cars that seemed out of place or that held occupants. This street was too big and too well-traveled to be an alley, but too narrow and badly accessible to be busy. Which made it an ideal location for a front, since you could easily be lost in the comings and goings but keep a wary eye on everything around you. Nothing looked off, so he got out of his car carefully, keeping his gaze trained on the street and the small parking lot nearby as he walked. He would have preferred to meet somewhere else, a park or restaurant or other public place, but there was no easy way to make contact with this guy -- all he ever got was a drop date by text message from a blocked number. And considering this guy worked for U.S. Customs and stood to lose everything, he wasn't going to have a lot of sympathy for any of Castelano's fucked-up business deals.

The truck scheme going haywire should not have surprised him. Amateurs were always an iffy proposition, and he'd set this up more out of a stupid loyalty to a former associate than out of any burning need to have some street-racing meathead pull merchandise for him.

Too, the idea had appealed to Berto's sense of adventure. The day to day boredom of his business was rarely interrupted, and the concept -- the sheer _balls_ \-- of the plan had seemed far too exciting at the time, and the merchandise too tempting to pass up. If he'd been fifteen years younger, that whole street racing scene would have been irresistible; as it was, just listening to Dominic Toretto's stories of the hijackings had been enough to make him wish he could be in on it, find out where a meet was happening and go watch.

Still, Toretto may have been king of that world, but he was an amateur in this one, and now he'd brought the feds, the locals, and the biggest psycho in Los Angeles down on Berto, and he didn't really want to see what was going to happen to him when all that finally blew up. All in all, given a choice, he'd have stayed comfortably out of the way of all this at his hideaway in Carmel, but you didn't say no to a couple of kilos of Mexican brown at a huge confiscated discount.

When he unlocked the iron gate and back door he stepped inside cautiously, flipping on the light, keeping his gun out and ready. Tony had a lot of low level muscle working for him, but most of them were too stupid to have figured out the security system here, so he didn't really expect they'd be inside. His dealings with Gregory had always been short, focused, and cordial, but Gregory cared only about his money and would do anything to either get it back or punish the person who'd taken it. He knew just enough about his fences, his suppliers, to keep tabs on them, but beyond that he wasn't interested in their personal dealings. Berto was nervous about frequenting anyplace Tony might be aware of, but he tried to remind himself that Tony just wouldn't care about this business unless he was in need of a last resort.

So it wasn't Dominic Toretto sliding up behind him that he expected, placing a hand firmly on Berto's arm, saying, "Drop the gun or I'll break it," and giving a nice painful squeeze for emphasis. Berto stepped all the way inside the storage room, put the gun on the floor, and as he did Toretto shoved him forward, some other guy closing the door behind them and picking up the gun.

"Where did you come from? I looked this place over for a half hour." He tried to keep his voice light, but he was seriously peeved to have missed them. Made him wonder what else he was going to miss before _pow_! and it was too late.

"Yeah, funny thing. People never think to look _up_."

Berto dropped his head. "Shit."

"Roof across the way. Next time don't move so slow. We might have missed you if you hadn't walked so damn slow and dawdled by the door."

He glanced at the other guy, who even in the dark seemed to kind of glow: spooky, sparkly pale blue eyes, surfer blond hair, tan skin, white teeth. Not the kind of homeboy Toretto usually ran with. It seemed more than just a little... odd.

"You're going to fuck up my meet, kid."

"Too bad."

"You've already fucked me over with the Armenian. This is going to help?" Berto was a planner; any change to his routine or adjustment to carefully scheduled business annoyed him.

Toretto laughed at him. "Obviously you misunderstand my presence here. I don't _care_."

"You've put me in a really bad spot, Dominic. I'm regretting my confidence in you."

"Well, I'm happy to let you down. The way you disappeared like a cockroach when the lights come on kind of leaves me feeling abandoned, Berto. I'd almost say you never had much confidence in me in the first place." He put his hand over his heart. From the bruises on his face and the cast on the hand, he got the impression that Toretto had been in a much worse accident that what he'd heard about.

Castelano had forgotten how much Dominic liked to spar. "Let's cut to the chase. What do you want?"

"I want to know where Tony has my sister." Toretto crossed his arms over that huge chest and glared down at him. He absolutely didn't want to show it, but Berto had always been just a little afraid of Toretto. The temper was legendary, and there was something more than a little disconcerting about a guy who could nearly beat a very large guy to death with his bare hands as easy as opening a can of beer. But Gregory, he reminded himself, was worse. A lot worse.

"You know, the last person I can afford to piss off is Tony." He watched the other guy, who was keeping a careful eye on Toretto, like he was waiting for something. But there was a more subtle undercurrent there that Berto couldn't put his finger on, something in the way the guy's eyes never left Toretto's face. And the fact that he obviously had a gun in back under that t-shirt. He wasn't the heavy muscle here, but there was more going on than he could figure out.

"Understood. But see, I could make it worse than you might think. Right now I got nothing to lose. Cops are after me, Gregory's after me, and my sister is missing. You can help me solve one of those problems, get what I'm saying?"

"Look, I'm sorry... about whatever's going on, but I got nothing to do with it. I can't help you, and I got a deal to do."

"I'll ask politely and get out of your hair: where is the fucker? I just want to know how to find him." Dom was already on the last nerve he had; it wasn't like he had an abundance of patience anyway even on a good day. He was sick of hearing the same old song about how dangerous Gregory was -- Dom was in the here and now, not Gregory or his minions.

But Berto was getting jumpy, and Dom could see that if he didn't get some space, he wasn't going to cough anything up. "When's your guy coming?"

"Now."

"You do your deal, then we talk?"

Brian gave him a speaking look, but Dom just signaled to leave it alone through a slight shake of his head. No matter what his inclinations might be as a cop, Brian was just going to have to deal with this criminal messiness. At the sound of footsteps coming up the street, both Dom and Brian melted into the darkness to leave Castelano alone. He made annoying small talk with the guy he was meeting, eventually dragging him to the front of the store. They listened to make sure Castelano wasn't going anywhere, Brian maintaining a cautious stance, as if he was expecting something serious to go down. Probably in his limited experience, any deal seemed potentially explosive; he had no sense of how commonplace shit like this was.

When he returned to the back room, Castelano seemed ready to talk. Cheerful, almost.

"Let's cut the shit, Berto," Dom said. "You know all about Tony, where he lives, who he sees. All I'm asking for is an address, a phone number. Give me something to go on."

"I'm listening." He shrugged.

"I got the money. I'm laying everything on the line for my sister: the car, the take, all of it. But I got to start by making contact. And if I don't... and something happens... well, I found you this time, right?" Dom tapped his cast lightly on Alberto's shoulder, offering his friendliest smile. To his left he could see Brian looking kind of pained, like he wanted to say something, do something. Maybe even something dangerous; it was hard to tell with Brian.

Castelano rolled his head around on his shoulders. "All right. Okay." He stared at the ceiling for a while. "He likes to entertain, you know? And this is good timing."

"Yeah, I've heard about his parties. So what?"

"No, this is a different kind of party. For legit people. A little cocktail afternoon-evening thing, at his house in the hills. All very chi-chi. Tomorrow, around four." He gave Brian a look-over, and said, "You two could fit, if you clean yourselves up a little. Dress better," he remarked in Brian's direction. "Have yourself a look around."

Dom smiled. "So thoughtful of you, Berto."

He took a pen out of his jacket pocket and wrote on a dollar bill, then handed it to Dom. "Have a drink for me." As he handed him the paper, Castelano said, "You know he's waiting for you. This is how he plays -- he knows you'll come gunning for him now that he's put you in motion."

"Playing _quien es mas macho_ doesn't interest me. If he wants to jerk my chain, he can be my guest, because I can't make him an offer if I can't talk to him."

"Word of advice. Make him give you the offer. Don't go shooting off that big goombah mouth of yours before he gives you his... requirements."

"I'll take it under consideration. So can we trust you're going to keep your mouth shut?"

"You think I want Tony to know I sent you there? Please. You can trust me."

"If you come out of your hidey hole again or make any phone calls, I _will_ be back. And this time I'll kill you."

"I know. That's why you can trust me."

Dom laughed and patted his shoulder. "Good guy. See you later." He jerked his head in Brian's direction.

Castelano said behind him, "Hey. You're not going to introduce me to Pretty Boy here? After all this quality time?"

Dom wondered if Castelano didn't smell the cop on him. To be in business this long, he'd have a pretty good nose for it. "Brian... Spilner, my new mechanic." Brian shot him a sideways glance.

Castelano raised his eyebrows. "Yeah, and that bulge under his t-shirt is a metric socket wrench."

As he turned away, Dom tried to stifle a laugh.

After they got in the car Brian faced him. "That was... easier than I thought."

"You mean since I didn't go sick-house this time?"

"Well, yeah." Brian grinned. "But he seemed a little more reasonable than his ... whatever that guy was."

"Berto's a businessman. A cowardly weasel, but a businessman nonetheless. Unfortunately a lot of the guys who work for businessmen aren't so sensible."

Brian put the car in gear and they drove off. "Where you want to go next?"

Dom shrugged. "Home, I guess. Play the waiting game for another day. Shit." He smoothed a hand over his head. "Maybe I can try to call Leon."

"Sure. Do you mind if I stop at my house, pick up some stuff? I haven't seen any tails so far, so I think it's safe."

"That's fine." Dom was vaguely curious about what kind of place he lived in, what his home was like -- if it revealed anything at all about who Brian was.

Out of the corner of his eye Brian watched Dom, at least when he wasn't watching the traffic or the mirror for any hint of a tail. He was silent, as usual, till out of the blue, Dom asked him, "You said something the other day, about how it was the story of your life to let people down. What did you mean? Seems like everyone else let _you_ down, not the other way around."

Great. Now Dom decided to get personal. Just when Brian was giving up on really making any kind of emotional connection to him, Dom would suddenly shift gears.

"Ah, just that I don't always do the right thing, consequences happen to people because of it." Dom gave him that kind of disbelieving look he did sometimes, like he could see through Brian all the way. When he was still undercover, it had unnerved Brian on a regular basis. "You know, I got into trouble, the usual stuff when I was a kid. And my friend, his parents had enough trouble just trying to raise him right, and I sort of dumped him in some major shit he might not have done if we weren't hanging around." He twisted his hands over the wheel. "Later, when he needed my help, he thought I ditched him. I just didn't know how to help him, I couldn't really, but I should have told him that at least."

Dom chewed on that for a while. "And you think you let your mother down?"

"Sometimes. Yeah, sometimes, and other times not so much. But her sister... my aunt Ginny, I lived with her for a while when I was a kid and you know how kids are, at some point they all swipe something from their parents." Dom nodded like he definitely knew that. "I took some money from her, barely even a few bucks, but it was kind of the last straw. She'd lost her husband the year before I went to live with her and she just didn't know how to cope; she was still really fragile, I guess. I wasn't the best kid then. I think it really hurt her. I tried to make it up later, I'd help her fix things around the house, but... I don't know that I ever made amends."

Dom didn't say anything, just stared out the window for a while. When he spoke there was a dark tone in his voice. "At least you figured out early on what you were doing and you changed. Some of us don't get that smart."

"Not smart, just necessary. And obviously I still haven't figured it out. Look at the trail I'm leaving behind me now."

He didn't say anything more, even when they got to the house. It was like a door had closed again, and Brian didn't know if it was because he'd said something personal, or hit a nerve with Dom about all the failures recently. With Dom, it was impossible to tell.

 

 

At Brian's apartment, Dom tried to get a sense of who he was from the place. They didn't talk; he poked around while Brian piled some clothes and other things in a duffel. Just looking in his closet gave Dom pause: there was hardly anything there, and all his clothes -- only t-shirts and jeans, really -- were stuffed in drawers. The idea of taking him to a Hollywood party, even for a sleaze like Gregory, seemed less than plausible.

There were some car pictures on his walls, some postcards scattered around, but it wasn't very homey. The living room smelled bad, and Brian explained that he'd spilled some food before he'd left that he hadn't had time to clean up. Dirty dishes were piled in the sink, obviously waiting there since before Brian had come to the hospital.

In some ways the place was as blank as Brian was, no real clear stamp of what he was like, what his interests were. No knickknacks that looked handed down from family; no photographs of people visible anywhere. Nothing personal, nothing identifiable. Yet it had been lived in, for a long time it seemed. How could you live somewhere for so long and not bear traces of that? Dom was completely mystified by what that said about Brian. He really was the perfect undercover cop, maybe: a blank slate, a blank life. Dom had no idea how anyone could exist that way.

They left without saying anything much to each other, and were equally silent on the drive home. Dom tried to process everything that had happened today; he felt like he was on a yo-yo string and someone was dropping him down hard, pulling him up, over and over till his head spun. It was stupid to resent Brian for being what he was, who he was. The guy hadn't been to his apartment since long before the investigation, he'd said, and for some reason that brought out Dom's sour side, even though it was ridiculous to still feel that way. All Brian had done was try to help him, try to make things right, but still Dom kept hanging on to this simmering low-level resentment.

Or maybe he just resented Brian because he brought out emotions that Dom really didn't want to have, especially not for a cop. Their worlds weren't compatible, and no amount of affection or attachment could change that.

They stopped for a bite to eat and made small talk about what Dom planned to do the next day at Gregory's little shindig, and Brian filled him in on getting wired, but beyond that, they didn't speak much. It was getting on to sunset by the time they got home; the evening felt hot and close around them.

Dom was aware of the sweaty dampness inside the cast, his ribs still ached, and his scalp itched, but overall it felt like just another night, as if they were driving around waiting for a meet to start rather than biding time to get face to face with his sister's kidnapper.

It wasn't till they pulled into the driveway that the ice cracked a little, when Brian suddenly laughed out loud. Dom followed his eyeline and saw that the garage door was ajar, but laughing wasn't the response _he_ had. His heartbeat quickened and he opened the car door, but Brian put a hand on his arm. "It's okay," he said. "Check it out."

Brian pulled the garage door open wider: the Supra was there, backed in, keys on the front seat.

"A gift from Sergeant Tanner. He mentioned to me that it was out of impound, but I didn't think..."

"Why would he do that?" Dom was baffled. Considering the way the cop had acted toward him, giving them the car back made no sense.

"Sometimes people just do things because they want to. Call it a peace offering from him to me. A way of telling me he's behind me."

Dom arched an eyebrow and gave a sharp little laugh. "You really are trying to get back in with him, aren't you?"

"That's not what this is about, but I mean, yeah, it would be good to get things straight again."

He watched while Dom looked the car over. "Cracks on the front scoop here. Must have been from when we went over the train crossing." He fingered the front quarter panel. "Shit, a bullet hole."

"Probably a few more of those." Brian leaned over. "Yeah, look at the skirt."

Dom was right on his back as they looked the car over. The heat of his body warmed Brian's entire back and made the hair on his neck stand up.

"Amazed I didn't do any more damage to it when I drove it off the road."

"I think I trashed it enough between chasing Tran and that little race of ours. That was so stupid," he said, shaking his head.

Behind him Dom's voice traveled over his skin, making him feel rubbery and weak. "Yeah, but it was fun." That low rumble reached all the way down to your groin sometimes; it was pure sex, deep and rough and sensual. Brian just wanted to lean back and let it vibrate over him. He shivered, hoping it didn't show.

Brian turned slowly, afraid that if he moved too fast he might end up face to face with Dom, which would be way too awkward, all things considered. "It's pretty much one big thrill ride with you all the time, isn't it?"

Dom cocked his head, shifting his hips slightly so that he was even nearer. "Are you saying you don't like it?"

"Oh, no, I'm not saying _that_."

Dom exhaled, something like a laugh, and he had that weird predatory look on his face again. Taunting, yes, but this time there was no question that it was sexual. Brian turned his attention back to the car, because it was killing him to have Dom bordering on touching him, messing around like this. "I bet the undercarriage is a disaster."

"Probably."

Dom was so close against him that Brian could actually identify specific things -- the button on the waistband of his pants, the curve of his shoulder and biceps pressing on Brian's own, the sharp line of his hip. A flush crept up Brian's skin and his heart beat unevenly.

"Geez, Dom, if you're gonna hang on my ass like that, at least pull my hair."

As soon as the words were out he was filled with a kind of scintillating horror -- he'd actually said it rather than merely thinking it, and was terrified of Dom's reaction.

Which turned out to be way weirder than he could ever have expected: Dom grabbed his hips and pulled back hard, only to slowly shift Brian around to face him. And then he _did_ pull Brian's hair; or maybe not really pulled, but roped his fingers through it to tug Brian's head back. Then, craziest of all, Dom kissed him. Actually kissed him. That incredible mouth on his, open and wet, tongue working its way toward his throat and Brian freaked out to realize that he was kissing Dom back just as hard, as if having his tongue in Dom's mouth was the single thing he'd waited for his whole life.

It could have gone on forever -- it _felt_ like it went on forever -- but Dom pulled away, pushing Brian's head to the side, biting and kissing down his cheek, neck, twisting fingers through Brian's hair. He pressed his head to Dom's shoulder, drinking in the sensations of those lush lips on his skin, those strong hands moving over his arms and up under his shirt. Brian moaned against Dom's throat.

But without warning, Dom was gone. Brian blinked, not completely sure what had just happened, when he heard the back door of the house slam shut. He sucked in a ragged breath, looking around the garage as if it held some kind of answer.

It was hard to tell what to do. Dom's reactions were so wildly unpredictable that Brian wasn't certain it was safe to go back in the house. In a way he could get what made Dom react that way; he was pretty wigged himself -- and he'd been thinking about this way more than Dom probably had. After a few minutes he steeled himself and went into the house. It was dark now; Dom hadn't turned on any lights, but he was pacing around the living room, phone in hand. Had he been trying to call Leon?

Brian took the belt holster off and set it and the gun on the table. Right now he wasn't so sure he didn't want to use it on Dominic.

Dom glared at Brian with a level of loathing Brian hadn't seen before, even in that field when he'd heard Brian identify himself. "I am sick of waiting around."

Brian just shook his head. "You wanna tell me what just happened?"

That seemed to surprise him. Like he thought, what? They wouldn't talk about it? Only he didn't say anything, just stood there glowering as if spoiling for a fight.

"You kissed me, Dom. You think we're not going to say anything about that?"

He reacted as if he'd been punched. "You were the one doing the provoking. Don't put it on me."

Oh for fuck's sake. He had no idea Dom could be this childish. "Oh, okay, I made you kiss me."

"Stop saying that."

"You trying to pretend you didn't do it?"

He tossed the phone on the couch. "Just forget about it. You were... you didn't need to do that. Push me."

Rolling his eyes, Brian snapped, "You just can't help yourself, is that it?"

"You weren't exactly a helpless bystander." Dom's voice was so low and quiet that a little tremor of fear worked its way up his belly. After everything he'd seen the past few days, knowing what Dom was capable of, he didn't trust that Dom wouldn't unleash some psycho shit on him with full force for such a transgression.

"Can't you just talk about this like a reasonable person?" It sounded so baldly pleading when he said it, and he desperately wished it didn't, but Brian was so afraid that this was finally it -- that last straw, and everything was unraveling between them at last.

"Give me my keys." Dom held his hand out.

"Dom, you can't--"

"Keys."

Brian fished them out of his pocket and threw them at him. Dom could move scary fast for a guy his size, and he whipped around after grabbing the keys, snatched Brian's gun off the dining room table, and was already starting for the door before Brian even realized what was happening.

"Dom!" Brian shouted.

All he heard was Dom snarling, "Sick of fucking waiting around and then shit like this happens," before the door slammed shut. For a second Brian thought about going after him, but the last thing he wanted to do was confront a pissed off Dominic Toretto armed with a handgun.

 

 

"JD and a beer back," Brian told the bartender, grabbing a matchbook from an ashtray and lighting the cigarette he'd bummed from a flirty girl he'd met on the way in. He'd spent the last hour driving around in the Supra trying to find any sign of Dom. It had to be difficult, shifting with that broken arm. Brian hoped that meant he would come home sooner rather than later, but when it didn't happen he'd gone out looking, though he had no idea what places Dom usually hung out at. So he'd ended up at a bar. He needed to call Tanner anyway so they could set up getting wired tomorrow, and he needed time to cool down, regroup.

The cigarette tasted like dog shit. It had been too long since he smoked and there wasn't much enjoyment in it anymore beyond the simple feeding of his oral fixations and giving him a focus for his slowly fraying nerves. He was terrified of the possibility that Dom had run off to Gregory's house. With, of course, Brian's own police-issue gun. It would be the stupidest thing he could possibly do, but he hadn't exactly been operating on higher brain functions when he'd left. Anyone else, it would have been easy to say "Fine, go get yourself killed." But not for Dom.

So many years spent trying to keep himself from getting emotionally involved with people, safeguarding his feelings, and he had to go and fall in love with an unpredictable hotheaded maniac. A _male_ unpredictable hotheaded maniac. He stubbed the cigarette out, tapped his fingers on the bar. Why couldn't he have just stuck with Mia? Everything would have been nice and normal then. Well, as normal as it could have been considering Brian had blown his cover the last time he saw her.

Still... anything would have been better than falling for a guy like Dom. Someone who'd kiss you like you were the one thing keeping him alive and then throw it back in your face while accusing you of trying to ruin his life. Not conducive to a positive, mature relationship.

They were like a couple of boxers at the end of a long match, pushing each other on to the ropes, swinging hard one minute and then stumbling against each other the next. Every time the bell rang they went back to their corners, psyching themselves up for going at it again, whatever this freaky thing between them was. Then the bell rang once more, so _wham!_ they came out ready to strike. Only there was no one in Brian's corner whispering advice or giving him pep talks about how to take his opponent down. No strategy for a slicing uppercut, no insightful knowledge about a glass jaw. Dom seemed to have the standing here, anyway.

With the weight of resignation overtaking him, Brian opened his phone and dialed Sergeant Tanner, who answered right away, even though it was late. Brian didn't feel the least bit chatty, but it was something he had to suck up and deal with.

"Sarge," Brian said. "Just wanted to let you know we made contact. Tomorrow afternoon, he's having a party, believe it or not. Hollywood schmooze-fest."

"I'll set up the wire," Tanner said. "Where are you?"

"Bar." The girl who'd given him the cigarette flashed her pearly whites at him again. Any other time he'd have been on her like sweat, but he couldn't even muster the tiniest bit of interest.

"You're chasing after your kidnapped girlfriend but you have time to hang out in bars?" Tanner asked with acid shading his voice.

He hadn't thought how it would sound to someone else. Of course Tanner would be the one to say it; he had that laser-precise way of cutting Brian down to size every time he stepped off the line. And Dom had a way of making him forget the common sense stuff. "Just part of the cover." Brian tried to sound lighthearted, but he didn't think Tanner would buy it. Too smart for that.

"Uh-huh. Give me the details, if you're not too busy with the carousing." Something about Tanner always made Brian feel like he finally had a dad, that kind of gentle disdain and cheerful cynicism that embodied fatherly qualities to him.

They talked for a few more minutes before he hung up, certain that Tanner must think he was the dumbest kid around. Patient as he was, this had pushed him to the wall, and as their week came to a close, Tanner must be expecting he was going lose his job because nothing they had promised had actually happened. He really, really didn't want that to go down; even if Dom slammed him for trying to get back in Tanner's good graces, Brian thought his sergeant was worth it.

After ordering another shot he knocked it back, polished off the beer, and decided to head back to the Torettos' house. Might as well just wait it out, finish the match. As he left he flashed the cigarette girl his most dazzling smile.

The RX-7 was in the driveway when he returned. He grabbed his bag from the Supra and went up to the guest room Dom had told him to use, figuring he'd have gone to bed to avoid contact. As he fumbled for the light switch, he heard Dom clear his throat. He was sitting in the corner, his white t-shirt the only thing Brian could see until his eyes fully adjusted to the darkness, aided only by the faint light from the back porch.

That was when he noticed Dom still had the gun in his hand, and his stomach clenched. Dom was tapping it against his inner thigh, staring.

"You've been gone a long time."

"Yeah, well, I was out looking for you. Thanks for asking." Brian shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to act nonchalant, like that was going to happen with a severely off-balance ex-con waving his own pistol around. "Dom, put the gun away. Whatever point you're trying to make, you've made it. If you're trying to scare me, you succeeded."

Tap, tap. It was like Dom didn't even hear him.

"What are you gonna do with it, threaten me? You wouldn't hurt me; it doesn't serve your purpose. So, what's it gonna be? Make me strip? Suck you off?"

That actually seemed to get through to him and he sat up, glaring. "Don't be so smart-mouthed. That's what keeps getting you in trouble."

Right. Because it was _his_ fault that Dom had kissed him, what with all the seductive wise-ass talk. "If you want to talk about this, or even if you just want to get all psycho denial about it, then put the gun away, because it's not helping. Whatever you want to do, let's just do it without the gun."

He slid the gun onto the little table by the bed, leaning forward. In some respects Brian thought Dom was actually scarier unarmed, at least when he was acting predatory and focused like this. "See? You don't know me, not at all. Whether I'd use it or not. What I'd be willing to do to you. _Why_ I would do something. You have no idea which way I'll go. Because we don't know each other, Brian. I barely even know who you are outside of a few things you've told me the past few days. Yet here we are."

"Yeah, here we are." His heart was beating double-time now. Maybe he should ask Dom to pick up the gun again; at least _that_ he understood how to deal with. The way Dom watched him was unnerving; Brian felt like he _was_ actually being stripped.

"You come into my life through a lie, you dazzle us all. Make me sit up and take notice. Feel like I found something I didn't even know I was looking for." He stood up, holding his right arm as if it hurt him. Brian wondered how far he'd managed to drive before he gave up. "What is all this to you? Are you playing me? Is that it -- make me feel like I'm more than your mark... that I'm your friend and you play me for some fucked-up end game?"

"No, Dom. You know it's not like that. You know how I feel now." Even if Brian wasn't so sure how he felt himself.

"I don't know." His voice came out cracked and weak. Wrecked. "I don't know what these feelings are." Then suddenly Dom was up in his face, right up against Brian like he was going to kiss him or maybe beat the snot out of him. Hard to tell. " _I hate the way you make me feel._ "

Brian snorted. "I don't _make_ you feel anything. Whatever problem you have, it's yours."

Dom circled around him like a cat, alert and hungry, so close Brian could feel his breath, the heat from his skin. "I see what you want. The way you look at me, the reason you touch me. Why you're still here when you should have been long gone and why you push me to the limit." He stood so near Brian's back that he could almost feel the seams of his clothing. With Dom's deep voice vibrating along his neck and back, Brian felt limp, wobbly. "But what I don't know is why. Are you a queer, Brian? Did you get into this to take me down, or because you wanted something else? I remember the first time I really noticed you, there in the store -- your eyes were up and down me, like you were cruising me. Is this what you planned all along?"

Dom was... the only thing Brian could come up with was... smelling him as he spoke. Smelling him the way animals sniff prey. He moved his face up and down, around, so close it was like being kissed. Those full lips just a hair's breadth from Brian's ears, neck, throat, jaw. The way he breathed in and hovered, switched sides, again and again was almost frightening; Brian's entire body felt electrified, his blood hot, pounding in his head so loud he couldn't think.

"What-- what do you want me to say?" Brian stammered out. "That I don't wish this was different? That instead of being here because I wanted to help, I was here because I thought I had a chance with you? I'm not that stupid. I know how things are. "

Dom ran his hands up Brian's arms, then grabbed his shoulders hard and shoved himself against Brian. Jesus Christ, he felt so good, so strong and hot, and his fingers were like iron around Brian's shoulders and the cast dug into his tendon. The feel of Dom's hardening cock against his ass made his own twitch in response. Attempts to control his breath failed; it just came out in panting gasps.

When Dom turned him around, the way he brought his head forward so abruptly made Brian flinch in anticipation of a head-butt, but instead Dom brought his mouth to his, fiercely, greedily. He shoved his tongue in the same time as he wrapped his fingers through Brian's hair and tugged. Brian was falling, falling through sensation after sensation: the smell of Dom, his sharp teeth biting and pulling at his lip, the rough-smooth feel of his scalp, the scratch of stubble against his chin. And those arms, god, those magnificent arms and shoulders and the muscles of Dom's back.

"That's what you want, isn't it?" Dom asked, searching Brian's face for something, any kind of sign that he might see the real Brian, at last. "You're not here for anything else. Not for Mia's sake, not to keep me out of prison, just so you can get _this_."

Something sparked in Brian, though, and he shoved Dom backwards so that he stumbled up against the bed. As he pushed Dom down on the bed, Brian climbed above him to straddle his hips, holding Dom's arms down with body weight. It hurt, but he wasn't going to let Brian know that. His face was flushed, mouth glistening and red. Those pale blues eyes glimmered even in the dark. "Maybe I do, maybe this is what I want. But I want those other things, too. Don't try to tell me you don't want it yourself." He slid one hand up under Dom's shirt, his rough fingers circling a nipple, trailing back down to slip under his pants... almost, almost touching his cock. "You think you could do something to force me away, don't you? Scare me. Make me suck your dick, fuck me until I can't stand. Threaten to hurt me, make me your bitch?" He added a dark little smile to that. Yet another side of Brian he hadn't seen before; Dom wondered how many more were left to discover. "But you can't do anything I haven't already dreamed about a hundred different ways. And I know you've thought about it, too."

Dom slapped his hands away and grabbed a fistful of Brian's shirt, hauling him down, face to face. "I didn't ask you to come here. I never invited you to worm your way into my life, deceive me, and play me like I was some kind of game. I never asked you to look at me or touch me that way." He pulled Brian into a ferocious kiss, gripping his shoulder hard even though Brian wasn't pulling away. Brian's cock was stiff inside his jeans, stiff against his own. Abruptly, though, Brian pulled back, grabbed Dom's wrists and pulled them above his head, pinning them there. The pressure on the fracture hurt, but he didn't care -- he almost enjoyed this.

Brian stared down at him, breath coming in shallow puffs. "And what do you want? You want Officer O'Conner because he can help you out of the mess you've made?" He leaned in close, dragging his lips along Dom's neck, his scalp, doing things to his ear that shouldn't be so incredibly hot. "Or do you want Brian Spilner, just another loser who worships you, wants to race with you, who wants to be part of your team? What do _you_ want, Dom?"

Dominic shoved his knee up between Brian's legs, stopping just short enough to avoid smashing his balls. Brian pulled his hips up, laughing harshly, and let go of Dom's wrists. Pushing back with his knee, Dom grabbed him by the ribs, flipped him over onto his back across the foot of the bed, and straddled his hips. Letting the cast rasp against Brian's skin, Dom pulled his t-shirt up, scraping hard over his nipples. Brian gasped and arched his back, allowing Dom to take his shirt off all the way. His hands squeezed Dom's thighs tight; he was enjoying this, something Dom hadn't expected.

Shit, Brian was gorgeous lying there beneath him, more gorgeous than he could have imagined even from the glimpses of his body he'd seen before. Alight with anger and lust and Dom wanted to take it all in, hold it and feel it light him up from the inside, too. Light them both up like a pair of Roman candles, sparks and embers flaring into the dark night sky.

"You. I want _you_." The voice that said those words didn't sound like his own, harsh and choked as it was. He placed Brian's hands on his fly so Brian could undo his pants and tug them down, then ran his hands flat over Brian's belly. Dom stretched himself over Brian, rubbing against him. He felt like a teenager, so hot and worked up he didn't even care if he got his pants off, didn't care if he just dry-humped himself against Brian and they both came in their pants. But Brian's hands on his skin changed Dom's mind, made him want this to last, and he let Brian peel his shirt off. He stroked Brian's cheek, twined his fingers through the thick curls, and kissed him with so much longing Dom wasn't even sure where it had come from. It wasn't that tenderness was foreign to him, but after all this frustration and antagonism tonight, he'd forgotten he could feel this way. "I just want to know the real you," he said, pressing his mouth to Brian's throat, feeling the pulse pound against his lips.

They kissed, this time slowly, gently, exploring each other's bodies with lips and hands. Dom paused from time to time, pulling back to look at Brian, see if he could gauge what he was thinking, but he couldn't tell. Would he ever be able to read him?

Brian's fingers skated across his chest, along his back, making his skin goosebump with the thrill of his touch. "This _is_ the real me. The one who wants to be with you." Pressing his fingers to Dom's lips, Brian kissed his forehead, his cheek, and rested his head against Dom's shoulder. "Be in you, heart and soul and body... if you'll let me."

He undid Brian's jeans but realized that he couldn't get the rest of their clothes off from this position, not with a bad arm. So Dom slid off the bed, yanked his boots off and then Brian's sneakers, their pants. Brian watched him the whole time. As Dom draped himself over Brian, he realized he had no clear idea of how this should go. What he'd done in Lompoc wasn't like this -- as hard and eager as he was right now, this was about more than just sex.

Brian pulled him tight, hooked his leg alongside Dom's hip, and thrust his rigid cock against Dom's. That was the E-ticket ride; Dom shuddered at the wonderful friction, rocking his hips in time with Brian's, while Brian stroked one hand along his ass, the other over both their cocks. It took only a few minutes of that to make him come, spilling across Brian's hand, his stomach. Dom closed his eyes while he let the spasms ebb away, moving slowly until Brian followed him not far behind, thrusts tapering off to stiff, jerking movements. They lay there soundlessly, hearts hammering a beat in time, until Dom raised his head to stare at Brian.

Smoothing the damp hair away from Brian's forehead, Dom said, "I don't care anymore. Be whoever you need to, lie to me, tell me anything, I don't care."

Dom had wanted to hate Brian for this, to blame him for what was between them as if someone _could_ be blamed. There was no starting line here, no finish line. No winners or losers. And he didn't know how to exist in a world like that, one that was missing all the points he needed to guide himself by.

Whatever Brian wanted, Dom wanted too -- to be inside him, body and heart and soul. To be someone who existed only for that other, that one you loved.

But there was the problem: Dom had forgotten what he was doing. He'd dropped everything crucial just to be with Brian. Only they weren't supposed to be here for each other, but to save someone else. Forgetting everything... This was what Brian had the power to do to him. This was his mistake.

He was lost now.

Lost.

 


	5. Surrender

>   
> Nothing is forgotten or forgiven  
> When it's your last time around  
> And I've got stuff running round my head  
> That I just can't live down

"You're right, this stuff reheats for shit." Brian ate another fry anyway, even though it was soggy and tasteless.

"Fast food is kind of meant to be eaten fast."

Putting the plate down on the night table, he said, "I could go out, get some real food. Something you could cook with, if you want."

Dom shook his head. "Not that hungry anyway." He reached over and put his palm against Brian's cheek, running his thumb along his lower lip. "We'll stop at the store tomorrow and see how Vic's doing. Maybe by tomorrow night, things will be better. Or I guess it's today, really."

Brian closed his eyes, leaning in to the touch. This was all so mixed up: his hopes for getting Mia back, for returning everything to normal again, and his fear that in doing just that, everything he'd started with Dom would end. He'd be back to that life again, the one Dom thought was so empty. The thread that held them together was thin and frayed already.

After the sex, Dom had sat on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Then he'd grabbed his clothes and left the room, whatever else he might have wanted to say unspoken. Brian had only lain there, attempting to come to grips with what had happened yet still feeling that sweet edge coming down off the other side of climax. Dom's leaving hadn't surprised Brian at all considering what they'd just done, the things he'd said. But it did disappoint him. He'd hoped that maybe by finally breaking through whatever held them apart, he could connect with Dom, get through to the inside. Maybe that just couldn't happen, though, not for them. He'd pulled his jeans on, swept fingers through his hair, and followed.

He'd found Dom at the bottom of the stairs standing by the window, wearing just his pants, arms crossed over his chest. Staring out at the front lawn, eyes sadly regarding the crime scene flags still out there.

"Hey," Brian said softly, standing beside him. "Come away from the window." He put his hand gently on Dom's shoulder. "Not always the safest place to stand for a guy in your line of work."

Dom didn't move away, but turned to look at Brian. "What are you afraid of?"

 _What a question_ , Brian thought. What would Dom say if he answered, "Everything?"

"If Gregory knows you're here, which he most likely does... or someone's following us... they could be watching."

So Dom came into the living room with him, a slightly panicked look on his face. "Would they bug the house?"

"Oh. " Brian shook his head. "No. If the FBI really wanted to, they'd have to get a warrant, otherwise anything they could conceivably get would be thrown out. Anyway, it's actually a pain in the ass, and expensive... even if they wanted to do it illegally, it's probably more work than they'd want to go to. We're not important enough."

That seemed to relieve him, though he looked skeptical. "It was important enough to put a cop undercover."

"At the time. Things are different now."

They both stared at each other, neither wanting to be the one to touch that comment first.

"How are you doing?" Brian asked with no hope of a real answer.

Dom sat down on the couch. "Ribs hurt like hellfire. Shoulder's back to screaming agony and the head's pounding. But hey, other than that... good times."

Brian gave a half-laugh. "So, where did you go?"

Staring off in the middle distance, he said, "You know where I wanted to go."

"Yeah, I was afraid of that. But you didn't."

"Drove around, hurt too much, came back. You were gone."

"What stopped you?"

Dom leaned his elbows on his knees, tapped his fingers together. Brian wanted to run his hand down Dom's back, maybe even try to rub the kinks out of his shoulders, but that wasn't a great idea considering where they stood right now. Part of him was still waiting to see if Dom was going to clock him. Eventually Dom cast a look over his shoulder. "You did."

"I don't know--"

"You're my new conscience." He shook his head. "All the time Mia tried to haul me back into line. Never worked. You come along and..."

Brian wanted to hear him say the words, but he knew Dom wouldn't finish. It could be bitterness driving that observation, but he wanted to know for certain -- there was a lot to be said for at least having the full disclosure, even if it sucked. Dom must hate feeling changed by their relationship, especially after being so in control for such a long time. He was not the kind of guy to surrender himself to anyone else's influence.

He figured there must be a way to angle the conversation so they could discuss what happened, but Brian was still too careful -- or maybe just afraid of driving Dom away. Neither of them could exactly be called satisfied about the direction the night had gone, even though Brian had gotten a glimpse of what he'd wanted for so long.

"What about you? Must have gone somewhere. You tasted like... whiskey and cigarettes."

"Realized I couldn't find you. I was too pissed off about everything, so I stopped at a bar. Bummed a smoke off someone and had a bourbon. Called Tanner."

"Smoking? Still another facet of your personality."

"Ah, quit a couple years ago, but when things get tense I start itching to have something in my hands. My mouth, too -- oral fixations, you know."

He'd hoped that might generate a smile, but Dom wasn't willing to give him one. "Took a long time coming back. For a while I thought maybe you weren't."

"Did it matter?"

Rolling his head around on his shoulders, Dom answered, "How can you even ask that after what just happened? Jesus."

Every muscle in Dom's back, neck, and arms was tense, it looked like. As if at any moment the trigger would be pulled, and bam.

Brian glanced away toward the kitchen. "It's okay to be wigged. I am, too."

Dom let out a sharp little sound that might have been a sarcastic laugh, it was hard to tell. Even though Dom wouldn't relax and sat perched on the edge of the seat, Brian remained scrunched down on the couch, head back, trying to effect a relaxed pose in the hope that maybe he could convince himself he really was.

"I don't know what I am anymore. I don't know what anything means."

"I know," Brian said. "Neither do I. Hell, I'm not sure I've known since I first really made contact with you. But I've had more time to deal with this. To think about you." He wondered if Dom had ever thought about him back at the beginning the way he'd thought about Dom. Maybe that's what he'd meant about hating how Brian made him feel.

Dom half-turned, really looked in his eyes for the first time since he'd come downstairs. "You think I haven't thought about this? About you?"

"I don't know. I don't know where... where all this comes from. Outside of what you said, hating me for how you feel."

Turning away again, Dom said, "Just that I never believed you'd want..."

He really wanted Dom to stop letting his sentences drift off, but Dom was struggling so much to find words, digging his fingers into his knee, all his muscles tensed. Fighting everything, just like he had before.

"I know," Brian said, trying to let him out of it. "Me neither."

"That's not what I meant. That you would want _me_."

 _Okay, could not have planned for that one if he'd tried_. "You've got to be kidding." It was impossible to believe that Dom didn't know he was the center of this little universe, that everything was, as Mia had said, pulled to him.

"Aahhh shit," he groaned, and hurled himself back on the couch, rubbing his hands over his face. "I keep telling you stuff I never even think about, let alone _tell_ anyone." He looked up at the ceiling like he might find some answers hidden there. "A couple days ago, you asked me what my dad would think of all this, how disappointed he'd be. You were right -- he would be. I wasn't like this before. I raced, had my friends and we got into our fair share of trouble, but... it wasn't till I got out of prison that things really changed. I didn't know who I was anymore, what I was. All I could see when I looked in the mirror was an ex-con, a failure. The garage, the store... that was the only thing left to me and they weren't choices I got to make. All this shit -- money, thrills, the power trip -- it was just a way to be more than what I felt like I was left with. It was easy to do the wrong thing."

Brian sat sideways, staring at him. For once he was speechless; all he could do was put his hand on Dom's arm, waiting for him to finish.

"I thought you were here because of Mia. Couldn't even figure out why I wanted to bring you in to the team, keep you around. I didn't think you'd want to be here for any other reason than her. When I found out the truth, it made more sense -- you were here because you were supposed to take me down. In the hospital you said it wasn't all a lie. That was the first time I thought, maybe... I don't know. Maybe it was something else."

His words carried such a raw power, but his face was blank and emotionless. Was he confessing because he was trying to tell Brian he wasn't ready for this? Or because he wanted Brian to know why he was keeping him at arm's length?

"Are you ever going to be able to move past that? Are you always going to mistrust me?" He leaned his cheek on the seat back, staring past Dom's shoulder. He didn't even really want to look him in the eye, not right now.

Dom seemed surprised by the question, as if he hadn't thought out what he was really saying.

"No, it's... we're past that." Closing his eyes, Dom continued, "I can't figure out where it fits because I don't know who you are. What you were before this job."

Brian got up and went to the kitchen, got himself some water, and came back. It was so off-kilter to sit here like this as if they were just shooting the shit, nothing out of the ordinary. Except that they were talking about everything that counted now.

"It doesn't matter anymore, does it? You were right when you said I didn't have much of a life. It was okay, I thought. When I got my first UC job, it felt like a chance to carve out something, you know what I mean? Remake my life. Like I was going to be some hotshot detective someday. I didn't know how, I just wanted to see what would happen, I was ready. But then I got to know all of you, and I found out what I was missing." Maybe it was the wrong thing to do, but Brian slid closer, wrapping his fingers around Dom's forearm, just above the cast. "If I was a blank before, I'm not now. Why worry about the guy I used to be? I don't know who he was, either, not anymore. What I care about is here, now, in this world."

Dom didn't touch him back, though Brian was happy that at least he didn't jerk away. That was an improvement. "I don't know how to do this."

"Because I'm a cop, or because I'm a guy?"

When Dom turned to look at him, his face was so torn and anguished. "I don't know."

The tightness in his throat and sting behind his eyes tripped Brian up; he was afraid of losing it in front of Dom. Everything had changed, and yet nothing had. They were still miles apart, confused, afraid. Secret debts owed only to each other, ones they could never hope to pay back.

"So you regret this."

The silence played out for a long time, to the point Brian thought maybe he wasn't going to answer.

"No. Don't understand it, but... I don't regret it."

"That's something." He wanted to find a smile for Dom, but couldn't. He didn't understand any of it, either. No high ground here to demand that Dom just accept it all, so he could figure a way to accept it himself.

Dom put his hand on Brian's thigh, letting the warmth of his skin seep into him. Brian was gorgeous in the pale light, his sad, hopeful face so moving, even though Dom felt cold and bitter. He'd shut himself down after prison, keeping all but the surface emotions stowed away inside. Showed his real face only to Mia and the team, and only then in the most cautious way. Self-preservation, he'd thought. Something about Brian had made him open up, risk it all. Was this the consequence of doing that -- his whole life turned upside down, unsure what he was anymore? Surrendering not just parts of himself, like he was used to, but everything to someone he didn't really know?

"The other day you talked about consequences. I learned that... nothing happens without a cost. Nothing. Every step we've made, every decision, had a cost -- that's why we're here now. All my bills came due. I think the cost of this thing goes way beyond just that everyone we know would think we're a couple of queers. Like there has to be some kind of payment for feeling what I feel. For having you at all."

The understanding came slowly to Brian's face, his shoulders sagging as he figured out what Dom was saying. He wanted to be more for Brian, to be strong and accepting, open in the way Brian believed he was. But he couldn't see any future except misery, and he didn't want Brian believing there was some kind of happy ending ahead.

"I'm not naïve," Brian said quietly. "Not the way you think. I know once Mia's back... things won't be the same. But don't shut me out now just because it'll be different tomorrow."

He pulled Brian to him, hard, digging his fingers into his hair.

"What do you want, Brian? I don't know how to be with someone who doesn't want... who doesn't expect something from me."

"Nothing," Brian said harshly against his ear. "Nothing besides this."

"You have to want something. Tell me."

"Just to be here for you. To make things right." Brian clutched roughly at Dom's shoulder, sending screaming fire through his tendons. Pain didn't matter anymore, though; Dom was drowning in all of this, barely keeping his head above water. Not even sure anymore if Brian was keeping him afloat or pulling him down. "You had faith in me before. You wanted me around. That's all I want, to be like that... before everything came unglued."

"I have faith in you. But... I can't give that stuff back to you. It can't be the way it was before. It's too fucked up, every which way."

Brian kissed down Dom's chest, heading south, lips and tongue marking a cool wet trail down his body. Though it felt amazing, he wasn't sure Brian knew what he was getting himself into. Maybe he was making another mistake to keep this going, even just tonight. But it was impossible to deny the need, the want. When he cast his eyes down, expecting to see Brian's crazy grin, he saw Brian gazing up at him instead, something like sadness on his face. Just for a second, and then it was gone.

He hauled Brian up to him, kissed him hard. "You don't have to."

Pulling away, Brian sat back, drawing light circles on Dom's chest. "I want to. I told you, I already dreamed this a hundred different ways."

"It's not..." He sucked in a breath. "You don't owe me that."

"No, I don't." That was so Brian -- challenging and testing. "What's going on? What's this about?"

"There was this pained look on your face."

Brian almost laughed, smiling down at Dom in a way that reminded him of the first night they'd really met. That shy, awkward grin. "If I did, it's not because of that. I want to. Don't know how many times I have to tell you that, but I do."

"Then what's that look about?"

Brian stretched out over him again, his skin furnace-hot all along Dom's body. He did those things to his ear again, things that left Dom feeling like stretched-out elastic.

"Sometimes it hits me that this is it. It's happening, but it won't be for long. Like everything has to count."

Dom couldn't say anything to that, there was no way to make him feel better. The same fear weighed him down, too. Brian pushed him to shift up, then knelt down in front of him, undoing his fly, moving his hand over Dom's hardening dick, tugging the pants down around his hips. When Brian put his mouth around the head, he hesitated briefly. That only helped convince Dom this wasn't what Brian wanted to do, but then Brian kept going, so good that he had a hard time believing Brian hadn't done this before. His hands ranged over and around, touching Dom just right, like he already knew exactly what he liked most. Dom was completely lost in him: he couldn't stop touching Brian, threading fingers through his hair, tracing them over his neck, jaw, ears. It wasn't as if he hadn't had great blow-jobs before, but this was Brian in front of him, Brian's mouth on his dick, Brian touching him like he owned Dom, and that made it all the more incredible. His body hummed with pleasure, muscles tensing with that sweet pain, until he looked down and the sight of it tipped him over the edge. Brian jerked back but didn't stop stroking Dom with sure hands until long after the spasms had stopped.

Weakly, he drew Brian up on the couch next to him, then pulled his cock out of his jeans. Hot, velvety, not like the way he remembered before with the rough, frenzied groping of his past experiences with a guy. He watched Brian's face while stroking him: his mouth open, eyes half-closed, lost in the pleasure somewhere behind himself. Whatever it was he felt, Dom wished he could feel, too. To crawl inside him, feel everything the same, know all of it like he knew himself. Brian wanted things the way they were before everything fell apart, and Dom wanted to put the pieces back together for him, he truly did. But that was impossible now; nothing would ever fit together again. All they had was this, maybe. Nothing in his own life would ever be right again without Brian; he was left with something that could never be whole.

He brought his mouth to Brian's, tasting himself on Brian's skin for the first time, watching as Brian came under his hand, back arching, head thrown hard against the couch. Hot, sticky fluid all over his hand and arm, and he didn't even care, just wanted to watch Brian's face like this, touch him, forever.

Dom brushed his knuckles against Brian's cheek, careful not to scrape him with the edge of the cast. A soft sheen of sweat covered his face; Dom traced his finger through it, licked it off. Taking something of Brian inside him, anything he might be able to keep.

They could hold on to all the pieces, hope for the chance to put them back together. But that was all it was: useless hope, hanging on. Nothing changed simply because you wished it. Brian pulled him closer, breath slowing, hands skating up and down Dom's back.

"Are you all right?" he asked quietly.

"Aren't I supposed to be asking you that?" Dom's voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Are you in pain? It's just... you're shaking."

His throat felt tight and he squeezed his eyes shut. "No."

He was exhausted, happy and sad, maybe more than he'd ever been since before he went to prison. But he had no idea how to tell Brian that. He allowed Brian to pull him down; they stayed that way for a long while, held together by something more than just desire. Something like fear, he thought: both of them afraid of what it meant to feel this way, and what it would mean to lose it.

 

 

Brian had almost nodded off when Dom slid off the couch and went to the kitchen. He ran a hand over his chest and stomach, pulled it away, sticky with sweat and semen. From the refrigerator, Dom said over his shoulder, "You need some food. You're gonna end up a stick figure, you keep going this way." But he didn't find anything worth making as he poked around, muttering in what sounded to Brian like Italian. He had no idea Dom could actually speak it.

"Just reheat what I brought back last night."

Dom eyed him with contempt. "You eat as bad as you dress."

"It's something when the cupboard's bare."

Dominic sighed. "Got that right." Rubbing his forehead, he said, "Shit, this is so fucked up."

For a moment Brian wasn't certain if he was making a thinly veiled remark about them, or the general situation and lack of anything normal in their lives currently. But then Dom flashed him that look, as if to say, "I didn't mean it like that," and he relaxed.

"You tired?" Brian asked, coming up next to him.

"If I wasn't before, I am now." Dom cupped Brian's shoulder, pulling him close. "Got a knack for taking it out of a guy."

Brian ducked his head, then went for the fridge. Talking about this made it harder to deal with. He pulled out the bags and said, "Go upstairs, I'll bring this up to you. You want something to drink?"

"I suppose you'll tell me a beer will interfere with my medication."

"Pretty much, yeah." Brian jerked his head up. "Go. Now that you're all wiped out. Besides, you gotta save your strength for tomorrow. Today, whatever."

"Need to clean up, anyway."

Brian nodded, focusing on food. Much as he talked normally, he wasn't sure where the line was here, which side he should err on -- not talking about everything that had changed between them like it didn't matter, or chewing it to death like a couple of chicks. And he wasn't about to ask Dom what he'd prefer, either. If he'd learned anything about the guy, it was that when he wanted to get chatty and talk important stuff, he would, but nothing could make him if he didn't want to. One night they'd all been hanging out at the house, watching a movie, and when they'd both ended up in the kitchen, Dom had started talking to Brian about his mother, about raising Mia, about the store and how they'd come to take it on. All as if he and Brian had been friends for years. You could never really plan on that sort of thing, though -- he just seemed to run hot or cold that way, and that was just how it was.

When he got back upstairs, Dom was lying on his bed on top of the covers staring up at the ceiling. It took Brian's breath away to look at him, lying there like that, one arm stretched above him, the other over his eyes. Even with bruises coloring his skin his body was so striking, the strong lines of muscle curving and arcing in different ways on different parts of his body. His pants were down so low on his hips that it emphasized the lines of the external obliques, carved channels tapering down to hint at something else beneath that cloth. Before, he'd never imagined doing anything like sucking another guy's dick, and it had been weird at first, but better than he could have expected. Because it was Dom, because he was incredible. Because he was what Brian wanted most. Now that he'd done it, he wanted more, wanted to experience everything else Dom was willing to let him do.

Taking his arm away from his eyes, Dom motioned at Brian to come over. He seemed to have a sixth sense for when Brian hesitated; it had amused him when Dom tried to give him an out for sucking him off, as if he had been pressuring Brian. Too nice for his own good. Brian sat cross-legged on the bed and handed him some fries and a really limp, sad cheeseburger. "Sorry. We were doing better when we were stuck in a motel room, I think."

"Other things on our minds."

"Guess so."

Dom took a few bites, then put it aside. Brian continued munching until he had to admit defeat. "You're right. This stuff reheats for shit."

 

 

They fell asleep not long after, Dom with his hand on Brian's thigh, both of them lying outside the covers and still partly clothed. Not much of a sleep, at least for Brian; he bolted awake with that familiar falling sensation, freaked out and feeling like he was back on that semi, trying to jump off. Dom rolled over, sliding a hand up to his hip. "Okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, just half in, half out." He rubbed his forehead. "We really are a piece of work, both of us. We better get some real sleep if we're going to do this tomorrow. Ugh. Today."

He rose, figuring he should go to the guest room, but Dom tightened his grip on the waistband of Brian's jeans. "Where do you think you're going?" There wasn't anything lighthearted about the way he said it; his voice was almost threatening.

"I just thought, you know, since we both need to sleep."

"I'm not pissed. About this. You can stay."

He wondered if Dom would ever be able to admit to wanting him close by. Maybe it was too much to ask of someone who was used to always being the one others needed, never the one in need.

He let Dom pull him on top of him. "It's hard to sleep. It's easier when you're here," Dom said.

Resting his head in the crook of Dom's neck, he sighed against his warm skin.

"Did you know what you were doing before?" Brian asked, his voice tickling over Dom's skin.

"Hardly."

Pulling back, Brian asked skeptically, "So, you never dropped the soap in prison, or took advantage of the guys who did?"

Dom chuckled. "Nope. It wasn't that cut and dried, anyway. But there were... things you could find to do, people you could find to do them with."

"The simple stuff."

"Very simple."

Dom played with his hair for a bit, just gazing at Brian, drinking in the smell of him, the feel.

"And you never?" he asked, still wondering about Brian's life before, what all this meant to him.

"Nuh-uh. Not even _thought_ about till you corrupted me." Brian slid up to straddle him.

"Corrupted, huh? Yeah, guess I have... the racing, the life of crime."

"What happens when you roll with a badass. I paid for my ticket, I knew what I was getting into."

"We'll see just how much of a badass I am tomorrow, I guess."

"It'll be okay. We can do this."

"You mean the meet? Or something else."

Brian's face seemed to run through every emotion. Dom watched him, running his thumb over his lower lip. "Everything, I guess. Both. Whatever you want it to mean." Dom pulled him down alongside him.

"Sleep. Worry about what it means tomorrow." That was the best he could give Brian. And he knew it was worthless.

 

 

"I refuse to believe there are no second-rate Hollywood stars who wouldn't go to an afternoon party wearing baggy jeans and sloppy t-shirts." Brian stood with his clothes in hand, glaring as Dom rummaged through his drawers.

"Yeah, but their baggy jeans obviously came from Barney's and their t-shirts might be sloppy, but they're clearly Armani. Get me?"

"I just don't see the point in spending that much money on clothes."

"Believe me, we can tell. The first time I saw you I wondered if you were buying your shit at that clothing-by-the-pound place at Goodwill."

Brian tried really hard not to laugh but it was a losing battle; he turned away, shaking with it.

"You care more about this stuff than most chicks."

"You think I would have spent this much time at a gym if I didn't give a shit about how I look?"

"Point taken." He looked down at his feet. "I suppose you're going to tell me the Chucks are out?"

"Nah, they're okay. Here."

He tossed a pale blue Henley at Brian. "At least this will make the sloppy jeans look less sloppy. And help hide the wire. Too bad it's summer; I'd loan you a jacket."

"I don't know. I think that if they see the gun, it's probably to our advantage. And there's nothing to hide with the wires these days, really. They're very thin. Transmitter will fit in your pocket just like change."

"Maybe. It's just... Tony's surrounded by some twitchy guys."

"It'll be okay." He pulled on his jeans, hiking them up a little higher so they'd look less sloppy, and pulled the shirt over his head. "Why are you keeping clothes that are too small for you?"

"Have a hard time getting rid of shit. Mia's on my ass about it all the time."

That was pretty obvious even to Brian, judging from the garage out back with his dad's stuff, to the DT garage; even the rooms around the house spoke more of his parents' tastes, not to the kinds of items Dom or Mia would choose.

Dom was still in his boxer briefs and Brian wished he would get dressed himself, because watching him move around looking like that made it a lot harder to focus on anything else. He grabbed a pair of pants and a black t-shirt and went into the bathroom. While he was gone Brian fished around in the chest, looking at his clothes, then opened the closet: Dom had some seriously fine threads with labels even he recognized. Brian wondered if he'd ever get to see him wear any of them. He wore clothes so well, too; even in overalls or grease-smeared work clothes, he looked like he could be in GQ. Dom would have no trouble fitting in at even the best parties.

"See anything you like?"

Brian jumped; he hadn't even heard Dom come out. "Nice things."

"Now you know my secret vice. Probably spend almost as much money on it as I do on cars."

"Is this the only one? How boring."

Dom put his hand firmly behind Brian's neck and pulled him into a rough kiss. "Got a new one now."

Brian slid his hand up under Dom's shirt, tracing fingers over the sparse hair just above his groin. "I'd love to see you in some of those things."

He changed the subject, glancing away with something like guilt on his face. "You look good in this. Really, really good. But you probably know you'll look good in anything; that's why you dress like that, isn't it? To call less attention."

Brian stepped back, eyeballing him, crossing his arms over his chest. Again he was fighting not to laugh. "Fuck you."

"You saying you don't know you're gorgeous?" There was that look again, the same one he'd gotten that first night at the party: lips twisted in a smirk, his brown eyes sparkling, head cocked like he was challenging Brian to say something.

Brian shook his head. "It's not like I go around thinking I'm... Mr. Stunning."

Dom barked out a laugh.

"I guess I've always known that people react to me that way." He shrugged. "I don't know. After a while you realize that that's how people think of you, that they think you're good-looking or pretty or whatever. But it doesn't mean much, except that it was always easier to pick up girls. And I had to learn to fight because guys always wanted to beat me up."

"Glad you're not smug about it."

If the situation had been different, he'd have asked what Dom thought, if it meant something to him. But even feeling okay with each other today, even being able to joke and tease, the situation still felt iffy.

Dom ran a hand over Brian's shoulder and said, "I'm going to call Leon while you finish getting ready. You can use my razor, anything in the bathroom you need."

"Okay."

Dom went downstairs and dialed the number off the list Tanner had given them. Leon answered right away, sounding relieved when Dom identified himself. Dom tried to explain what had happened without getting too far into it, but Leon freaked when he heard about Mia.

"Jesus, we should have never left, D. I'm so sorry. Jesus fucking Christ."

"Not your fault. It was safer that way, anyhow, you needed to get gone. I just didn't know where you ended up till Brian called his... supervisor. And I had no way to get in touch with you till I was back here."

"Never thought it would turn out to be a good thing that he was a cop, you know?"

"Me neither." He wondered how badly Leon would react if he found out about the past 24 hours. Shit, could this possibly have gotten any more fucked? "Can I talk to Letty if she's there?"

"Just a second..." There was a muffled sound on the other end, and then Leon came back. "Uhh... I'm sorry man, she doesn't want... she's not ready to talk to you, Dominic. I'm sorry."

Dom had no idea what to say. He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling a tightness in his stomach and sourness in the back of his throat. Every time he thought things couldn't get worse.

Again Leon said, "I'm sorry."

"Guess I deserved it."

"Nah, Dawg, you didn't. It ain't your fault. You didn't make any of us do nothing we didn't sign up for." That was Leon all the way -- even if he had a grudge, he'd never let on. He was always about maintaining, about keeping everything even and smooth. The glue that held them all together.

"Except that last one. You all said it was bad. You were right."

For a long time Leon was silent, until he said, "She'll get over it, she will. She's just... you know how she is, man. Gets a bone between her teeth and chews till it's in splinters. She's just hurting and freaked. So what about Mia? How close are you to getting her back?"

"I don't know. We're going to meet Gregory soon."

Leon whistled. "Shit, Dominic. That guy... he thinks everyone's a toy, you know? Be careful." Though Leon had never met Gregory, he knew enough about him, had heard enough stories, that he had a pretty clear picture of just who they were dealing with. Sometimes Dom wasn't sure he had as clear a picture, just because of their history. But he wouldn't know until it happened.

"We will." Brian had come downstairs and was carefully pretending not to listen. "Gotta go. Would you tell... tell Letty I'm sorry."

Very quietly, Leon said, "You got it. Don't know that it'll change anything, but you got it."

Dom hung up and stared at the phone for a while. In a weird way she had given him some kind of out here, even though it wasn't what he'd asked for or even wanted. Right at the time this thing with Brian was happening. Or maybe in a way all these things were happening because of Brian. Everything was so mixed up now, cause and effect and consequence. It gave him a headache just thinking about it.

But Brian smiled at him with that dazzling little-boy grin, and for at least a while, things would feel better.

 

 

Tanner studied Toretto as they were explaining the wire to him, taking note of what he paid attention to, what he brushed off. After all that time setting up the case, this was the first opportunity he'd had to really watch him in motion. He was different than the man Tanner had met in the hospital -- more intense, more focused. In a weird way, more charismatic; there was a confidence about him that came out even though he was clearly unhappy about being in a surveillance truck with a bunch of cops. He reminded Tanner of the kind of guy he met most often on the force: strong, determined, hard. A rough kind of charm. Tanner wouldn't go so far as to say that he had been wrong about Toretto all this time, but he was definitely rethinking the hopeless, dumb criminal tag.

That was the bad part, though -- it wasn't hard to see what had sucked Brian so deep into his world. When Tanner had first picked Brian for the detail, he hadn't realized just how much that adrenaline lifestyle would appeal to the kid, had no idea how much Brian wanted something more in his life. Then you threw in someone like Toretto, the sun in the center of his little criminal galaxy, and of course Brian would be dazzled by that. Pulled right in, even though he damn well knew better. Though Tanner was starting to see that there was something else under all of it, a weird current of electricity between the two of them. That was always the danger of UC: building a relationship with your target, letting yourself like them. He'd seen it before, the romanticized idea that their mark was a better human being than other cops understood. When Tanner had realized what was going on with Brian, suddenly his whole "you can't put a beautiful wild thing in a cage" fuckup with letting Toretto go made an annoying kind of sense. It also made him want to slap the crap out of Brian for behaving like a teenage girl with a fan crush. Even the way Brian watched Toretto when they'd pulled his shirt up to attach the wire -- there was something in the way they looked at each other that wasn't kosher, but it gave him a huge headache merely thinking about it, so he focused on other things.

The sergeant sat toward the front, letting Muse and the tech guys explain everything. Both of them listened intently. When the tech talk was done, Tanner said, "If it looks like something's going south, use the word 'travel.' We'll have a team standing by, but it could be a long time before they can get to you in a place like that. Don't do anything foolish -- you are not a tactical unit, you are not undercover officers. You are there to try to get a twenty on your sister--" he looked pointedly at Toretto "--or set up a meet to get her back. That's all. I want us to get this guy where every charge sticks. Brian may have his gun, but in no way does that mean I want him presented with any opportunity to use it. Understood?"

The two of them looked at each other, again sharing something that Tanner didn't even want to think about. "Got it," Toretto said gruffly.

Dom had been watching Tanner watch him for a while now. He could tell the guy was cued in to the way he and Brian were around each other now, but he wasn't stupid enough to call attention to it. Just as Dom looked away from Tanner, Muse moved toward him with something shiny in his hand. Dom leapt back out of the chair, knocking it over and crashing a bunch of equipment to the floor with it. His heart raced and he felt a cold prickle of sweat on the back of his neck. Every one of the cops except Brian had drawn their guns.

Spreading his hands, he said, "Sorry. It's... you've never been inside. Someone comes at you with something shiny in their hands in an enclosed space, you don't wait around to find out what it is."

"Stand down, guys, " Tanner said, holstering his gun. "Come on. We're all overreacting."

"You think?" Brian asked sharply. He glanced over at Dom, flashed him an "I'm sorry for this bunch of morons" look, and shook his head. Even though his face was pinched with worry, that was what Dom needed, what he realized he'd been missing these past few days with everyone gone away -- someone behind him one hundred percent, unconditional. Someone who knew him.

But Dom couldn't sit down again, still too tense and wired. The idea of being trapped in this tiny truck with a group of armed cops was making his skin crawl anyway, and now this... It had been a long time since he'd been affected by that skin-memory of prison. Like he could never really get rid of it or will it away because it controlled too much of him.

Tanner put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We're not exactly used to working with ex-cons like this. A little too twitchy for our own good."

Dom was starting to understand just why Brian liked the guy. He definitely had a way of keeping things real. After he got his breath under control, Dom took the transmitter and let them test everything out.

"Okay, boys," Tanner said dryly. "Saddle up, you're ready to go." As they left the truck, Tanner asked Dom, "So how does it feel to pull for the good guys for a change?"

Dom just made a noise low in his throat and went to the car.

 

 

Things were already well under way at Gregory's house, enough so that Brian wondered if they could reasonably call themselves fashionably late. The valets looked bored, in fact, when they rolled up the driveway, having long since taken care of most of the cars, waiting now for the first to leave. Brian had done valet work when he first came to LA, and he remembered the private parties at the restaurant he'd done most of his work at: the way the first couple hours were crazy busy, then tapered off as the attendees got blitzed, then eventually handing off the keys to the coked-up owners, most often when it was well into the wee hours of the morning.

The house was like most in these hills, hidden behind walls and a gated drive with security, though higher than most, due to the nature of Gregory's business. It was more a collection of buildings than a house, sprawled across the sloping property. The jacarandas were blooming around a courtyard near the entryway. Dotted around the outside of the courtyard were at least three separate fountains.

When they drove up in the RX-7, all the valets turned to look at the car. One kid jumped to the front so he could get it. "Shit, this is a thing of beauty, man," the kid said to Brian, then did a double take when he saw Dom. "Oh yeah, I know this car. You're Toretto, aren't you?" He seemed completely bewildered by the presence of someone he obviously recognized, but who wasn't in the film industry. "I seen you race. Man, you're amazing."

"You race?" Dom asked with genuine interest. That was always the thing about Dom that threw Brian off-balance, the way he seemed to really connect to everyone at the meets, yet held himself aloof from people in other social situations. He was never too cool to talk to one of the kids, but others barely merited his attention.

"Not in your league, man. My car's not there yet. Still got a lot to do."

"Come by my garage sometime. Let me take a look."

Brian gave the keys to the kid and jerked his head toward the entry. Dom bumped the kid's knuckles and peeled himself away; Brian just shook his head at Dom, who gave him a "what?" kind of look.

"You're like everybody's big brother."

"Everybody's _cool_ big brother," Dom said as they entered the main house. It was big, as Brian expected, one of those classic hacienda-styles that were popular in the '50s. People swarmed through it, and the two of them melted into the crowded living room area, which was bigger than all the rooms of Brian's home put together. He watched as Dom scoped things out, making note of all the doors and stairways. He nodded in the direction of a stairway off on the other side of the entry, so Brian followed him. Dom seemed causal, almost as if he felt at home, but Brian's heart was definitely beating a lot faster, his breath coming more shallowly. Dom said he'd never been to this house; the times he'd met Tony before were in Malibu or in public places with Castelano. Even though they didn't stand out in any way from the rest of the crowd, knowing that they were poking around in the house of someone who'd kill you for touching an ounce of his chronic didn't leave Brian feeling terrifically brave. Each got a drink from the bar.

They went up the stairs, Brian keeping a lookout to see if they were noticed. All the art photographs carefully arranged, the paintings, seemed clearly designed to give the place an air of sophistication that its owner didn't have. But it was just the kind of place Gregory would need in order to feel like he fit into the legit film industry. Dom looked in every room upstairs -- and there were a lot of rooms -- until Brian asked him, "Do you honestly think she'll be here?"

"No. But we check everything, even just to see what things look like. Know what we're dealing with."

"Got it. But this is a big house. Can't stay under the radar if we go everywhere."

"That's okay." Dom was totally focused now, his face alert and tense. The way he looked when he was driving.

They went back downstairs, then through a couple more hallways, avoiding the kitchen because it was so busy. Standing in a corner, overlooking the pool and the spectacular view of the hills spreading out below, they scanned the room until Dom touched Brian's shoulder. "Three o'clock, over by the archway. That's Tony."

Brian turned to look at him: totally nondescript, a generic guy in his mid-fifties, dark curly hair salted with grey, olive skin. Not someone you'd ever peg for a psycho crime lord. Shorter than everyone around him, but obviously the center of their attention. He wondered how many of the men standing close by were the goons. He was mostly talking to a blonde bimbo with some of the biggest tits Brian had ever seen on a woman that thin.

A woman came up to them, smiling, stirring her drink. It was impossible to tell her age, she was so plastic. "I remember you," she said to Dom. "You were at Tony's New Year's bash, weren't you?"

Dominic nodded, but Brian could tell he didn't remember her. "How are you?"

"Good, really good. And I definitely remember _you_ ," she said to Brian, who blinked a couple times in surprise.

"I'm pretty sure we haven't met before."

"No, we were on Blood Dawn. You had an even smaller role than I did. One of the cops."

"Really, I'm afraid you're mistaken. I don't act."

"I never forget a face. Especially not one like yours." She pushed her breasts against his side.

"I'm flattered, but..."

Dom smirked. She was obviously a little drunk, but Brian got the distinct impression that had nothing to do with her conviction they'd worked together.

"What's your problem? What are you, too good remember me? Gone on to better things?"

He flashed her his best smile. "Problem? No problems. You?" he asked Dom, who shook his head. "See, we're problem-free. Just a case of mistaken identity." He was starting to wonder if he might have arrested her at some point, though he couldn't ever remember arresting any actress types. She narrowed her eyes at him and walked away, muttering something.

"Fun party. Everyone's so friendly."

Dom raised his eyebrows. "Always a good time with Tony."

A waiter came by with a tray and took their empty glasses. He smiled at Dom, slipping a card into his pocket as he walked past. Dom didn't even register surprise, but pulled it out and looked disinterestedly at it.

"Phone number."

Brian tried not to laugh as they both turned to look at the waiter, who mouthed something in Dom's direction. "Did he just say 'daddy' to you?" Brian asked with glee.

"Fuck off." But his eyes were glittering when he said it.

Brian bit his lip to keep from laughing, holding his head down towards his chest. "I swear to god, Muse, you better get your laughing done now because if I see so much as a smile later, you're a dead man."

Dom drew his mouth in a tight line, something between annoyance and amusement on his face. "Let's go outside, otherwise we're never gonna make it out of here alive. There's a guest house and a couple other buildings to keep us busy."

"Tennis court, horse stable, motocross track..."

"Not quite, but not too far off. He's probably making up for what he can't have at the Malibu house. He thinks it makes him important."

"Except it's the drugs that make him important."

"Got that right."

They went out back, careful to walk among the clusters of people drinking and smoking and talking, until they swerved away towards the back drive. There was nothing in the guest house, nothing in the pool house, and they were just about to enter the garage when a voice came from behind. "Dominic, Dominic, Dominic. You pain me."

They turned around slowly. Gregory had three guys with him, all of them short, squat, and obviously packing. Gregory was grinning, his cheeks slightly red, dark brown eyes sparkling. That was the biggest difference between Gregory and his muscle -- they all had dead shark eyes, their faces stony and lifeless. Not the punks Castelano had gone on about, so he could only think this was the old-country wild bunch.

"Tony," Dom said, nodding.

"Are you taking advantage of my hospitality? Crashing my party?"

"Ah, you know me. I can't resist a good soiree. Just assumed my invitation got lost in the mail."

Gregory laughed, a weird, snorting laugh that somehow made him seem even more sinister than he already did.

"You've always been so much fun to work with. That's why it was _so_ disappointing to hear you'd fucked up." He looked around. "Did you truly think I was stupid enough to keep her here? Honestly, you wound me."

"Nope, but doesn't hurt to take a look. Never know what crazy things people will do."

Gregory sighed. "Good point. But let's take our conversation into the office, shall we? It's so unpleasant out here. Though I'd love to hear what you think of the cars, probably best to wait till later and things are nicely sorted out."

"Happy to. But maybe you could ask bitch-ass here to take the gun off us." Dom nodded at the bodyguard. "We ain't going anywhere."

Gregory turned to the guy next to him and said, "Mike, please, it's so... hostile. Especially since Dominic's friend is polite enough not to take out his gun."

Brian glanced at Dom, whose face was completely impassive. He couldn't imagine Gregory doing something here with guests around, but from everything he'd heard, he was so unstable that God only knew what could happen. The thing that amazed Brian most, though, was how calm Dom appeared, as if this was all totally normal for him. Maybe it was -- this world he kept talking about like it was where he belonged, the very things that had convinced him he was such a bad guy.

They followed Gregory up a back way to the second floor, and went into one of the rooms Dom had looked in previously. It was an office, but it didn't look like it was ever used much. Yet another thing built for show. Gregory stood in front of his desk, leaning on the edge. "Can I get you anything, a drink?"

"We weren't planning to stay, but thanks anyway," Dom answered.

"So, who's your friend here? Not the type you usually run with, is he? Not exactly an East L.A. street urchin. Rather breathtaking, too."

"My new mechanic. Brian Spilner."

"I heard that you lost one of the people on your crew. How sad. Those Vietnamese gangs... they're so dangerous."

This gamesmanship was making Brian feel incredibly twitchy. Yet the more sarcasm Gregory threw his way, the icier Dom got. This was his element, his world; if it was all a façade, and he wasn't really that calm underneath, you'd never know it.

"Can we cut the crap? You wanted to deal, so let's deal. What'll it take to get my sister back?"

"No, no, no. You have no sense of humor. First I want to know about your stunning mechanic." He turned to Brian. "Where do you come from? You look like you belong in a magazine spread on surfers or hanging out on Venice Beach, not drag racing on city streets like some poor homeboy."

Brian wasn't totally certain whether he should answer. Dom had made it clear he wanted to do the talking, but it would look weird if he didn't say anything. "Just another low-rent adrenaline junkie, I guess." He flashed a smile, and Gregory raised his eyebrow.

"I like him, he's spunky. Not afraid to carry a piece to a party, either."

"Just insurance," Brian said.

"So tell me, are you committed to this job? Or are you... flexible? Because you'd certainly be easier on the eyes than some of my help." If Brian wasn't mistaken, Gregory was... leering at him. Then he licked his lips, and Brian blinked.

Dom crossed his arms over his chest. In a very wry voice, he said, "Hands off, Tony. He's taken."

There was a long, weird moment of silence pulled out between the two of them; they were looking at each other as if they understood something no one else in the room was going to get. A private joke, or maybe a not-joke. Whatever it was, it made everyone else uncomfortable except them.

"Dominic. I had no idea you were playing both sides these days."

"Yeah, article in Road & Track about queer racers and the mechanics who love them. I was intrigued."

Gregory burst out laughing, but Brian's insides twisted around. He felt like he was going to be sick. What the fuck was Dom doing? Had he forgotten they were wearing a wire? Did he think this was for fun?

"Well, you know my rules. I'll back off, but if you ever change your mind about him, I'll take your references happily. I could always use a good mechanic." He sighed. "You are just... so much fun, Dominic. I really believe that's half the reason I went for this whole scheme. Always happy to have merchandise, of course, but you're just so charming that you could pitch me anything and I'd go for it. Alberto, too." Gregory circled around Dom like he was checking him out, which Dom didn't even really respond to, not the way a guy normally would be when he was getting looked at like that. He acted as though he'd seen all this before. Brian was starting to understand that Dom had held back a lot when he was filling him on Gregory. Always holding back something, shutting him out. "And you're the life of the party wherever you go."

"Can we talk business now that the flirting's over?"

"Oh, you're such a buzzkill. All right. What have you got to offer?" He gave Dom's body one last long lookover, and then leaned back against the edge of the desk again.

"Basic payment. Your money from the missed shipment -- the whole value -- plus interest I've taken from the rest. I take back the collateral you already took from me."

"You're so prosaic." He heaved another dramatic sigh and rubbed his temples. "It's a fair deal, though."

"If anything has happened to her..."

"Again you wound me. I wouldn't harm a hair on her head. I like you too much. I find your whole street-racing scene so invigorating."

"Yeah, you like me so much you kidnap my sister, who's not a part of this. You got proof you haven't hurt her?"

"My word's not good enough?"

"Not usually."

Dom was so cool when he said it, but it made Brian that much more nervous. Maybe they had a history of shit-talking each other, but with a guy like this, you had to seriously wonder how far was too far. Dom and Gregory stared at each other for a while, before Gregory clapped his hands together sharply, making Brian jump.

"Sounds like we can do business. You'll put a bump on that interest, I assume? For the couple days you went AWOL. Oh, but that reminds me. I've heard tell you're back at your house. Your souped-up little car was seen in the driveway. Now, you wouldn't be flouting that police manhunt for the escaped ex-con, would you? Or maybe you're already... having a conversation with them about all of this? That would explain why you could so brazenly come back when you're supposed to be gone."

"Never heard of hiding in plain sight?" He stared coolly at Gregory, waiting for a reaction. Gregory's eyes had rested on Brian when he said police, and now Brian felt the sweat between his shoulder blades. "They've been looking other places. You think I want to have anything to do with cops? You know me better than that. "

"Mm. Maybe that's the problem -- I don't know you as well as I'd like."

Dom rolled his eyes. "Deal or not?"

"Give me the extra, and certainly."

"Whatever it takes. Gimme a number. But if you hurt her... all the muscle in the world won't be able to help you, Tony. It's a promise, not a threat."

Gregory was silent, assessing Dom with a cynical smile. A part of Brian was awed that Dom could stay so collected, but a part of him also wondered if this kind of dangerous sparring wasn't a little too much fun for him.

"My employees will see you out." He wrote something down on a slip of paper and handed it to Dom. "I'll have Mia give you a call, since you're such a Doubting Thomas. How else can I convince you I'm still your friend?"

Dom worked his jaw back and forth, staring dully at Gregory, before glancing at Brian and jerked his head in the direction of the door.

They left out the back way, and when they went to the front drive, Dom asked the valet to just give them the keys and tell him where the car was. As they walked down the hill, Brian asked, "Do you want to tell me what all that was about?" He pointed at his chest. "All that queer racers shit? Is he a fag?"

Dom made a face. When they got to the car, he opened the door and leaned on the roof. "Tony's... what's that word? Omnivorous. Get my point? Likes chicks best, especially really underage chicks, but he also likes guys, and you're just his type. He'd make it a point of interest, do you understand?"

"No Mia unless..."

"You really want to be his toy in this game?"

"He seemed interested in you, too. Playing you. What was that about? It didn't seem to even faze you."

"It's just his thing. He likes trading on his reputation for damage. People have disappeared after spending time with him. Most of the time he's coked up and out of control. He thinks it'll freak me out and put me off balance."

"So the only way you could get him to leave off was to play faggot?"

Dom shot him a glare and slid inside.

Brian got in the car and turned on the engine. "Okay, so you saved my precious ass. But what makes you think if he's that... casual about shit, you can trust him to deliver on this? Or that he hasn't done something to her?"

"He's got this weird code, or what he thinks is a code. It's why I said you were my mechanic and you were taken -- he'll keep his hands off if he thinks you're spoken for. This old-country shit about respecting your enemy's property until you have to wipe them out. Then you rape all their women, burn all their land. They're insane."

"That's not what I'd call old-country. That's like Old Testament or something."

"I told you he was a sick fuck."

"But a sick fuck with a code." Brian shook his head, not entirely certain he believed all this. "Jesus, it's like we're talking about Keyser Söze or something."

"Now you're getting it."

"We gotta get the wires back." He slid his hand up under his shirt, pulling his own off, slipping it in the chest pocket. "At least now they've got him on tape admitting he has her. It's not much, but it's something."

Dom just slid his sunglasses on. He'd grown sullen now that they were coming away from the situation, now that the adrenaline of fear had dissipated.

"So... what do we do next?" Brian asked.

He turned his gaze out the window. "We wait."

 


	6. Business

 

>   
>  **Show a little faith  
> ** **There's magic in the night**

 

Brian threw the keys on a table by the door, watching as Dom paced around the house. He acted almost as if he didn't know the place, like he was a stranger in his own home. Sometimes Brian thought he might give himself an aneurysm just from the intensity of his glare, the way his whole face contorted with frustration and his body tensed in anger. He hoped his blood pressure was good.

In the kitchen Brian grabbed a couple of beers. He tapped his fingers on the counter over and over, lost in thought, before gathering himself back up and handing one of the beers to Dom.

When Dom looked at him quizzically, Brian just shrugged and smiled. He was sure Dom wondered about what he was thinking, or why the beer, or any number of things, but it was pointless to try to get him to ask. And it was equally pointless for Brian to guess at what he wanted to ask -- he usually turned out to be wrong these days. Dom was even more of a puzzle to him now than he'd been before they got physically involved.

They'd stopped at the store on the way back, told Vic what was happening with Mia, and spent the rest of the afternoon and evening trying to tie up loose ends at the store. Dom had grown increasingly edgy the longer they'd stayed away. After a while, Brian had realized that Dom had no cell phone anymore to take Gregory's promised call, not that Brian expected the guy to deliver on his word. They'd gotten him a new one with the old number and Dom had appeared a little less tense after that, but not by much.

Brian cleared his throat. "I want to say something, stuff that I'm not really good at saying. So don't interrupt me. And I'll probably blow it, but I want to say it anyway." He took a breath, struck by the weird, almost scared way Dom looked at him. "In spite of your psychotic breaks and the extreme-sport-level brooding, I think you're doing an amazing job. What you did today... I could never have done that. Played his game, thrown it back at him like it didn't scare me. If I knew someone else's life was in my hands I couldn't be that casual ... it was amazing to watch. Scary, but amazing." He looked down at his beer, then squinted up at Dom. "That's what you are, no matter what _you_ think. I know you believe you don't deserve anybody's respect, but you do."

Dom stared impassively at him the whole time he spoke, then shook his head when Brian finished. "Don't feel all that amazing." He turned to start up the stairs, but then stopped and looked at Brian. "You are, though. Keeping me going, putting up with me... this fucked-up world. That's the amazing, right there."

He'd never said anything like that before, not to another guy. Brian moved toward him, all loping grace and laid-back attitude, to stand on the stair below, wrapping a hand tight around Dom's arm just above the cast. "No choice anymore. You're stuck with me."

That almost -- almost -- gave Dom a reason to smile. He slid his hand around the back of Brain's neck and leaned to kiss his eager, pliant mouth. Brian grabbed him by the shoulders, pulled him down so that he stumbled onto the lower step as they clawed at each other. Like something had lifted from around them, released them, and they alternately pulled at clothing, buttons, zippers, everything they could as they made their way up the stairs to Dom's room.

Dom couldn't keep his fingers out of Brian's hair; it was like some kind of obsession that his hands had, independent of himself. Brian must have liked it, too: he made little growling noises low in the back of his throat, which only served to arouse Dom more. After they got some of their clothes off, Dom shoved Brian against the wall to kiss and lick down his chest, dropping to his knees as he did. That appeared to cause a near-collapse for Brian, so Dom propped him up with a shoulder, undoing the last button on his fly as Brian weakly tried to tell him he didn't have to do that.

Against Brian's belly, he said, "Never gonna have any fun if we keep telling each other that."

"I know, but..." he began, stopping as Dom ran the backs of his fingers over his cock. He shuddered and took in a sharp gulp of air.

"Shut up." Dom's breath on his skin left it hot and moist.

"Okay, but..." and then he stopped again as Dom pulled his jeans all the way down, then the shorts after that. Dom firmly planted his hands on Brian's hips and turned him around, facing the wall; Brian put his hands flat against it, as if he was being arrested. Now that was a thought. "You really don't have to do anything--"

"Shut... _up_." He sank his teeth lightly into the soft skin just above Brian's hip and slid his hand around front, just grazing the end of Brian's cock. Dom liked this, the feeling of Brian trembling under his mouth and hands. Trying to hold himself together when he really wanted to let go. Best of all, Brian's ass right in front of him, more appealing than he could ever have guessed. He'd always been an ass man, anyway, so it made a kind of sense that he'd enjoy Brian's just as much as anyone else's. Running his tongue along the curve of one cheek, he pushed Brian's legs apart so he could slide his hand up between them to cup his balls. Every gesture was met with little noises from Brian's throat. After a few moments of watching him wiggle and pant, Dom bit his ass firmly -- not hard enough to break skin, but harder than before, then again, and again, while Brian writhed beneath his mouth. He kneaded the muscle with his good hand, tracing his thumb between the cheeks. Brian plastered himself against the wall.

"Just... are you gonna... you need to stop that and get on with it."

Dom slid up against Brian's back, taking his earlobe between his teeth. "Get on with what?"

"Fucking me, dumbass."

Reaching around, he tweaked Brian's nipple hard. "Told you to stop calling me that."

"I'll keep calling you that till you stop teasing and do it."

Dom ran his fingers through that golden hair again, admiring Brian's profile as he pressed the side of his face against the wall, eyes closed, a dew of sweat over his flushed skin.

"You know it's not easy... It'll hurt."

"I know. I'm ready. And _don't_ start telling me that I don't have to do this." He gripped Dom's wrist hard, twisting for emphasis.

That crazy damn courage of Brian's only made him laugh -- sometimes he wondered if there was anything the guy was actually afraid of. "Gotta get something, then."

Brian turned around slowly, still leaning on the wall, like he couldn't quite manage to stand up without it. "Already did. In my pocket." His face was almost bright pink, his lips wet and dark.

Dom had wondered what that was that he'd felt in Brian's pocket before; he leaned down and pulled out a tube and raised an eyebrow.

"While you were in the back room with Vic. I left money; wouldn't want you to think I was shoplifting or anything." Another glimpse of that blinding smile.

"But you _did_ plan this out." He was a little annoyed, a little amused. Pretty much how he often was with Brian.

"Not planned. Hoped."

Dom closed his eyes as Brian's hands roamed over his body, pushing Dom's pants down, the backs of his fingers leaving little tracers of electricity that prickled his skin. "Like I'd say no to your little plan now."

"That was sort of the general idea. As far as I'd, you know, developed an idea."

"I'm glad I can be so predictable. Have to think of a way to surprise you."

"Now who needs to shut up?" Brian kissed him, partly to shut him up, but also because he couldn't stand looking at that gorgeous mouth any longer, moving, but not against his own. Not with his tongue inside it. The press of Dom's dick against his own sent a shiver through his body. Already he felt weak enough as it was, so he pulled Dom over to the bed where he wouldn't have to waste energy trying to keep upright.

"So," Brian said, lips traveling over the blade of Dom's jaw, hands roving over the smooth scalp, "amaze me some more." Not afraid of it, he told himself -- he wasn't, not like Dom thought. This was something that felt right, something that they both needed to know.

It was what Brian expected, and yet not -- it did hurt, but in a good way, not that he could explain that to anyone even if he'd wanted to. He allowed himself to get used to it, letting go enough to almost like it; something about the press of Dom's body along his, the hot breath against the back of his neck, made the knowledge of having Dom inside him, with him, turn it into something pleasurable. Dom was so slow and careful, more than he probably wanted to or needed to be, constantly watching him, making sure everything was okay. To Brian's shock, he felt something like a switch being flipped, sharp and exhilarating and wild and Dom's hand was on his dick, moving in time with his hips, and he was over the edge, the climax not like what he'd experienced before. Some sensations were new, but it was really about the way it felt so different and disorienting, alive and raw and brilliant, blinding. He was ready to collapse, but he knew Dom was almost there so he waited, absorbing it all, testing it inside himself until he could feel Dom's hips jerk, stall, jerk again. Dom was almost silent in orgasm, weak against him, his breath the shallow panting of surprise.

They lay on their sides quietly for a long while, Brian enjoying the weight of Dom's arm slung over his own, the warmth of his skin. Eventually he stretched out as Dom pulled away, rolling over to face him and putting his palm on his chest.

"Worth it?" Dom asked.

"What do you think? I might never walk again." At the look of panic on Dom's face, he added, "In a good way. Like I've been turned into Jell-O."

"What flavor?" Dom rolled over on his side, rubbing his arm. It must still hurt a lot, and Brian felt a twinge of guilt over forgetting how much he had yet to heal. Desire addled your brain, took your attention off other things. You just wanted to grab at everything you could feel, wallow in your selfishness.

"Uhh... grape."

Dom shot him a mildly disgusted look, but reached out and pushed his hair off his damp forehead. Brian had a hard time keeping his eyes open; he drifted in space, weightless and empty. The feeling of Dom's fingers sliding over his skin, twining in his hair, finally relaxed him too much and he slipped into that liquid dark, feeling safe for the first time in weeks.

 

 

When he woke up, Dom was gone -- again. He was beginning to think that was Dom's auto-pilot pattern, but it wasn't like he could compare notes with Letty or anything: "Hey, did Dom have sex with you and then leave, like he couldn't stand to be around you?"

He cleaned himself up in the bathroom, noting his reflection in the mirror: still bruised; darker circles under his eyes now from lack of sleep. A hickey on his neck, he observed with a laugh. Definitely a sore ass to go along with all the other injuries. But it was good, like pleasure and pain had become indistinguishable. Experiences, sensations were all combined now, good and bad, but it felt right, just because it was with Dom, and him with Dom. He dressed, went downstairs, took the unfinished beers that they'd left on the hall table and dumped them in the sink. Out the back he spied Dom sitting there on the stairs, drinking something from a large, elaborately shaped bottle. He went outside to sit beside him, reaching for the bottle. Tequila, and obviously very expensive stuff.

"It was Jesse's," Dom said. "Thought I'd finish it off for him. He had this thing for tequila, for some reason. We'd go to Mexico and he'd always come back with all these crazy-ass bottles. He always remembered the names of this maker or that... talked about it the same way he'd go on about an engine."

Brian took a deep drink. "Everyone collects something, I guess. I keep matchbooks, for some reason. Got like this whole history of my life, practically, in the matchbooks around the apartment."

Dominic didn't even look at him, but a phantom smile crossed his face, then disappeared. "He was such a weird kid, you know? Tequila was one of the things he did, but there was all this other shit... like those little figurines for playing games, and then he had this whole box of obscure R&B records that his dad started. Jess would go to used stores and comb through boxes to add to the collection while his dad was..." He sighed hard, a hitch in his breath.

"In prison. He told me."

Dom rubbed at the frown point on his forehead. "He never gave up on his old man even though the guy was a shit bastard."

"At least he had you guys. Someone to call a family." Brian took another pull from the bottle. Yup. Really, really good stuff. He remembered a party they'd had one night, when somehow he and Dom, Letty, Leon, and Jesse had ended up in the kitchen, downing tequila shots, laughing and talking loudly. He'd watched as Dom had licked the salt off Letty's lips, then kissed her for a long time, hypnotized by his mouth, the way he moved his hands through her hair. He'd been brought out of his reverie only by a jolt from Leon's elbow. "I'm _talking_ to you, man," Leon had nearly yelled in his face, and then Brian glanced back at him, certain his fascination with Dom would have been obvious to everyone in the room. They only laughed at his sleepiness. He'd said, lying, "Must be way drunker'n I thought." It was as good a cover as any, one everyone accepted willingly because they were wasted, too.

"I don't know why... why this feels so damn bad. I can't look out there," he nodded in the direction of the street, "without feeling like my guts are twisting up." Dom knew that Brian understood, but it still felt weird to talk to him about things that were this emotional. It wasn't that Brian didn't feel things, Dom knew he did, but sometimes he felt like he was so different from Brian -- not just wearing his heart on his sleeve, but bleeding all over the place while he did it.

Brian gazed at him with that look he got sometimes -- kind of sad, but with a patient sort of understanding. He handed the bottle back to Dom. "You loved him," he said, as if it was the easiest statement to make in the world.

That hit like a shot in the heart. Dom moved his jaw back and forth, trying to stem the tide of feelings that washed over him. All he could do was nod, though. Once Brian got into your head, it was like he could pull out everything about you. Name all the things you felt, everything you were.

"He liked you," Dom said eventually. "Told me you guys had a really good talk when he was showing you the designs for the Supra. Went a long way toward making me think you were worth keeping around. Jess wasn't always that smart about what to do for himself, but he was pretty good at figuring out what was good about other people."

With a mock salute, Brian said, "Nice of him to be my fan."

But Dom couldn't find anything jokey about that; he was overcome by such shame that he wasn't sure he could keep talking to Brian, especially not like having this talk was normal. All these years on the outside and he still felt as if he was trapped behind those prison walls, running his crimes over and over in his mind until he no longer knew what was real and what he'd added on in his imagination. His body might be free, but there were times he wondered if his mind ever could be. Even today in that van, the sensation of confinement and panic, the knowledge that nothing he could do would be the right thing, had overpowered him: he was going to lose every ounce of control he'd had, as sure as day followed night. And now Brian was here, lulling him into forgetting, making him think it could be all right... but it couldn't ever be, even when this was all over. The same story kept playing out again and again: failing everyone, making all the wrong decisions while messing with their lives. Being the leader no one should follow.

"I get the impression," Brian said, "that you're back to beating yourself up for all of this. That's why the leaving after we... afterwards, and the drinking and brooding."

Dom rolled his eyes. "Now you're my shrink, too?"

"Well, you _really_ need professional help, but I can do the part in a pinch." He grinned at Dom, leaving him dazed, as always. The way Brian made what should be annoying and grating into something friendly and charming completely astonished him.

"I'm not the amazing guy you want to believe I am. Keep telling you that. I'm the guy who moves in a world with psychos like Tony in it... the guy whose decisions get his friends killed and his sister kidnapped."

"Look," Brian said, his voice harsh. "Jesse made his own decisions. I warned him and he could have stopped before that shit got out of hand. You are not responsible for that. Maybe your history with Tran made things worse, who the hell knows. But no one, not even God, knows the answer to that, you know? Both Jess and Johnny made their choices."

"I _know_. But the fact is everyone's connected to me. Their lives would have been... would have been different if it hadn't been for me. It's all down to me." He took a long pull from the tequila, its sweet burn traveling down into his gut. He wished he could explain to Brian, make him understand what it was like to live with this burden. But he wasn't sure he could explain to someone who'd never screwed up that badly, who'd never done time. Who didn't know what it was like to be unable to come out into the light. "I want to believe that there's something still inside me, the guy I was before my dad died. That I'm not what I made myself into to get through Lompoc. But I don't think he exists anymore. It's like I'm still back there, still... paying for something that I can never really pay up all the way."

Brian watched him with those freaky blue eyes, listened the way he always listened to Dom -- one hundred percent attention, homed in on every word, each gesture. Brian had a gift for listening, he thought, an ability to hear people, even if, like him, they didn't deserve that.

"That's why you're putting aside money for Linder. And that's why you're focused on getting Mia back and giving Gregory to the cops. A bad guy would walk away from all those things. Throw up his hands and say there's nothing he could do. There's hope for you yet, you know."

"Doesn't make amends. Nothing can." He paused, looked up at the sky, rubbing his hand over his mouth. "I wonder sometimes if I'll ever stop being inside."

"That's what motivated all this crime shit, that's all. So what? Doesn't mean that's all you are, and no matter how much you fight with me about this, I'm not buying it. I know better. People can fucking rise above. I did."

Dom kept his gaze up at the sky, watching the stars and half-moon above them. "It's not just that. I'm supposed to be thinking about my sister. I'm supposed to be dealing with Vince, and Jesse, and everything else. But what am I doing instead? I can't stop looking at you. Not exactly the time for fucking up or fucking around." He took another drink. "When Letty didn't want to talk to me, I was... relieved. What the hell does that say about me? I don't know _what_ decisions to make anymore. Seems like every one I make is wrong. Got no idea what right is and the scary fucking thing is that I'm not convinced I ever did. But I was arrogant enough to think so."

"I get that," Brian responded sadly.

"All this time I thought I knew who I was, what I was... till you came along and then I didn't know anymore. Everything's wrong. All going in the wrong direction." He swallowed hard, staring down at the step. "Brian, I'm lost."

Dom didn't know what he was expecting, but it wasn't the way Brian grabbed him hard by the back of the neck, yanking him toward him, pressing his forehead to Dom's. "No, you're not. Not with me here." It didn't matter to Dom that they were outside, and Brian was kissing him roughly. When he pulled away, he slid his fingers along Brian's knee, then got up and went into the house.

Brian sat still, not even angry or disappointed this time. It was Dom's way of keeping control, pretending that he wasn't in too deep. In a weird way it made Brian feel better about all the crazy shit Dom did, understanding that he had to keep attempting to distance himself -- afraid of feeling too much and losing what little restraint he still held on to. Self-contained, yeah, Dom had always been that. But able to keep those big emotions in check, not so much. Dom thought it was his great failing; hell, until just this afternoon, Brian thought it was, too. But what Dom couldn't see under all that guilt was that those emotions also gave him a strength not many people had. Dom could handle larger-than-life situations -- didn't matter whether it was a hijacking gone wrong, or verbally fighting with a psycho drug lord. His intensity got him through it.

Of course, Dom didn't think that was worth much, especially not in the face of what had happened in the past few days. But the events allowed Brian to see a truth in Dom that he was pretty sure no one else had seen: underneath all that charisma and presence, the gravity that pulled people in, there was just a guy filled with uncertainty about himself, mired in his mistakes, unable to really walk out of Lompoc. When he no longer had a real prison to hold him, he'd built one of his own. He played a good game with his pretenses: king of the street racers, leader of the team, the bad-ass everyone wanted to follow. But that's all it was -- a game.

Taking a gulp from the bottle, Brian looked up at the sky. The winds had blown a little bit of the smog clear, and he could see some of the constellations, the ones he recognized anyway, and pick out which of the brightest stars were really planets. This was a city of stars, the earthbound kind. Sometimes you forgot the beauty of the real ones. Dom didn't even get that he was like them: glittering, shining, drawing in others because they wanted him to take them somewhere, be pulled into his orbit. Enthralled. He was more compelling than any phony star in this town, and brighter than the real ones up there in the sky, yet Brian couldn't seem to make him believe in that.

The ringing of Dom's new cell phone startled Brian out of his thoughts. He turned and saw Dom through the kitchen window, staring at the phone as if he had no idea what to do with it. When he finally picked it up, his body immediately tensed. "Mia, baby--" he began but stopped, listening. "I'm going to take care of it. I won't let you down again." He pulled the phone away from his ear and squeezed his eyes shut.

Brian wanted to go to him, try to offer some comfort, but that wasn't what Dom needed now. For a while he stayed outside, considering what to do, staring up at that sky full of stars. Then he reached into his pocket.

He went into the house where Dom paced restlessly, standing in front of him to make him stop. Brian tugged on his waistband. "How's your wrist?" he asked conversationally.

"My... why?" Dom still had that furrow between his brows, and the frown that always went with it.

"How is it?"

"I don't know. Don't feel anything. Haven't thought about it for a while."

Brian tossed him keys. "Think it can take shifting?"

"What is this?" Dom gave him that withering, skeptical look. At least this time it wasn't attached to a shotgun muzzle being shoved in his face by Vince.

"Let's go for a drive."

"Brian, I can't--" but Brian was already out the door. He jumped into the Supra and revved the engine as Dom came out around the back of the house. Then he peeled out, fully expecting Dom to follow. About 45 seconds later, he saw the Mazda's headlights behind him. The streets were emptying out by this hour and he headed for the freeway as fast as he could, Dom coming up close behind, then exploding alongside as they got closer to the entrance. If they got pulled over they were going to be in such deep, deep shit; this would fuck everything up, but he couldn't think of another way to get Dom back from this self-loathing. When they hit the onramp to the 101 they took it two abreast, jockeying for position as they burst onto the freeway. North and then west and then north some more, back and forth in the nearly wide open lanes, around the few cars they encountered. The roof was open, his hair blowing back and the night air pouring over him. On an exchange they pulled two abreast again and he glanced over at Dom, who turned briefly to look at him, his face relaxed now, almost smiling. For a second, Brian felt that heart-stopping panic again; it was too much like in the Charger and the dread made him slow down, but then Dom pulled ahead and shot forward, lapping him so bad that it took Brian at least five miles to catch up. They kept going on and on, up the steep hills and down, weaving through any traffic they encountered and on into Oxnard, then to Ventura. He could see the lights out on the water, the half-moon shining bright above it all. On the hill above the freeway he spotted a Denny's sign; it seemed as good a place as any to stop, especially since he was suddenly very aware that he was starving. He zipped in front of the only other car nearby and arced around in front of Dom, tapped the brakes a couple times, then sped over to the exit, up the hill, and into the parking lot. Dom came in behind him, tires squealing. Brian waited for him as he got out of the car, slower than usual. But very nearly smiling.

Brian could not stop grinning; he laughed when Dom shook his head. "You are a really bad influence on me, cop."

"Was that fun, or what?"

"It was good. Really good."

"How's your arm? That was a loooong drive."

"Hurts like a sonofabitch, but who cares?"

They were at the back of the building so no one could see them, plus there were only two cars in the parking lot, anyway. Brian curved a palm along the back of his head, pulling him into a fierce, rough kiss. "Never again, Dom. Don't ever shut me out like that. I will never lie to you again, I swear it, but don't you ever shut me out again."

Dom pulled away and made one of those strange little hand gestures he often did, pointed a finger a couple of times in Brian's direction, and walked into the restaurant.

 

 

On the way back they drove a lot more sensibly. Dom was content to tail Brian for a while, let his aching arm rest, as much as he could, anyway, given the circumstances. They'd known each other only a short while, really, and known the real selves for even less time, but already Brian knew how to bring him out of his moods. Knew how to make him smile, pull him together. For someone who'd been raised pretty much on his own, Brian seemed pretty capable at connecting to people.

It spooked Dom. Surrounding himself with people who knew him well enough to call him family was all right, but he'd been very deliberate in how he chose them. No one in the team, though, was this penetrating; maybe no one else felt like Dom belonged to them quite as much, either. Vince had been so pissed off about Brian being pulled in to their group, but it wasn't because he felt Dom was somehow theirs alone. He'd taken their devotion, their sense of family, for granted all these years, then closed himself off after prison, never really thinking about what it would feel like for them. And then... he just let Brian in, no questions asked. Welcomed him as part of the family, none of the cautious steps to maintain distance, to keep control. But it probably wouldn't have even mattered; when a guy like Brian decided to worm his way into your life, too bad. You could make a vain attempt at fighting it off, convincing yourself you weren't suckered in by the person, but when you were caught, you were caught.

He was fooling himself if he thought that when this was over, he could cut Brian out. Not someone who knew him this well already.

He'd sat across the table from Brian in the Denny's, watching him with a fascination that he couldn't remember feeling since he'd first discovered girls. It was a sensation he could only identify as being sucked into something, pulled down -- like an undertow, a whirlwind, something with force and energy and motion. No fighting it, either.

Brian had tucked into a breakfast so big Dom thought his gut would explode, yet somehow he'd managed to down the whole thing except for one small corner of toast. They'd gone through at least a pot of coffee, too, while Dom talked about the phone call from Mia. He told Brian more about his sister, where she fit into all this shit with the hijackings, just so he'd understand how hard Dom had wanted to keep her out of it. He found it hard to choose the words, to admit how fearfully she'd said his name when he answered the call, how scared she sounded in the few short sentences she'd been allowed. But brief as it was, at least he'd known she was all right. They hadn't hurt her, she'd insisted. All Dom could think of then was "yet."

Brian had listened while he ate, then fixed Dom with a look and reminded him, "You've gone the distance for her. Just a couple more steps and we're at the finish line." Dom had nodded, staring out the window. _Done_. He wasn't sure he'd ever be able to finish this. It would always be with him, just like prison. He'd look at Mia's face and know what pain he was capable of inflicting.

They were nearly to the Santa Monica exit when his phone rang. The same voice that had threatened him that first night in the hospital was on the line, a heavier accent than Tony's by far, and he didn't even wait for Dom to say anything. Short and to the point, the man gave him instructions on where to go and when. Way out in the hills; all the better for them to make a good getaway.

He closed the phone and moved up into the lane next to Brian, held the phone up. Brian looked at him and Dom shouted over, "Game on."

 

 

Too many things still puzzled and annoyed Carl Tanner when it came to Toretto and O'Conner. He'd watched them in the van during the briefing, and then the way they interacted throughout the setup, as if they had some private communication thing going on: little twitches of the head, an eyebrow raised, a tap on the arm. The farce of this relationship had tipped over into something else entirely, something he had no real ability to process. It was more than just going native, more than just a rookie UC cop being hypnotized by his mark. But he wasn't sure he wanted to figure out what it really might be.

The two had been up all night, wired on how much coffee Tanner couldn't begin to guess. Brian had confessed, in fact, to a little racing adventure, though he insisted it hadn't been anything more than just "driving real fast up the 101."

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you could make for everyone if you'd been caught?" Tanner had snapped at him, and Brian just ducked his head, smiling sheepishly. He insisted such stupidity had more to do with the mood Toretto had been in; despondent and unpredictable, O'Conner said, in need of something to get his adrenaline up. Maybe that was what Brian wanted to call it; Tanner thought it was more acting like a pair of teenagers whose parents had left town.

Along with the FBI team that Bilkins had sent over, Tanner and the LAPD tactical team had walked them through the plan. Every once in a while, Tanner would stop to glare at Brian just for the hell of it. The kid just didn't seem to want to get it through his head that this was as serious as a heart attack, that him and Toretto playing buddy cops was not going to get the sister back alive.

Wires were in place, tracking devices, too. Toretto had declined a vest, but Brian wore a loose, baggy button-front shirt to hide the vest he wore over his T-shirt. Tanner didn't want either of them out there without something to protect themselves, but Toretto insisted the Armenian would notice if he wore one; if Brian stayed back by the car, acting more like the hired help, his vest wouldn't be as noticeable. They would wait for the drop to move in, and hopefully no one in Tony's posse would have a trigger finger. Toretto was jumpy about the whole setup, concerned they wouldn't wait until he had Mia away from the site before they pounced. No faith in any cop except Brian, basically.

They wanted Gregory alive, something Tanner made very clear to both of them. When you got down to it, he and Toretto were worried about the same thing, just that they had very different reasons.... the guy was scared of losing his sister and not getting Gregory, worried about escaping this thing in one piece. Very strange to feel sympathetic to Toretto. No cop ever really got used to operations like this, but the first one was always the worst -- and Toretto didn't have the luxury of experience or training. He'd been impressed with how the guy had handled himself at Gregory's, the tough talk and casualness in the face of a psycho playing mind-fuck with him. But that didn't convince Tanner that he was ready to do this, not at all.

Tanner took Brian to check the equipment out, though Dom was pretty sure it was mostly to get him away to clear his head. Dom sat at the door of the van, watching them. Whatever Tanner had figured out about their relationship, it was bugging the shit out of him, that much was obvious. The more time he'd spent around Tanner and Brian together, the more aware he was that Tanner saw him as a protégé, someone he'd had higher expectations for. In a lot of ways Tanner reminded Dom of his dad. And he was a hell of a lot smarter than Brian gave him credit for.

Dom kept his eye on Brian as he nodded and walked away from Tanner, returning to the van. After he climbed in, he sat on the bench seat, rubbing his palms over his knees.

"You're sure about the vest?" Brian asked.

"Yeah."

Brian seemed fixed on everyone else moving around, pointedly not looking at Dom. This place off the highway they were hidden away in reminded him of the area around that motel they'd stayed at the first few days. Weird how it seemed like a lifetime ago now.

After a few minutes of silence, Brian reached under his shirt, took out the Glock that was tucked into the waistband of his jeans, and slid it toward Dom. "For protection." Dom picked it up, looked it over, and then slid the gun back to Brian, carefully watching to see if anyone noticed.

"I appreciate the gesture. But no, thanks."

"Dom..."

"Ain't worth it. If I have it, I'll want to use it. I've pictured myself blowing Tony's head off way too many times in the past few days. Hell to pay for you if I did."

Brian shook his head, but Dom put his hand up.

"You're this close to getting what you want back. This goes right, you're in. Don't fuck it up by giving the ex-con the gun."

"If anything happens out there, you're totally helpless."

"Nothing'll happen with you on my back."

Brian smiled and took the gun. Dom touched the back of his knuckles to Brian's cheekbone, just for a warm second. A part of him wondered if this would be the last time he'd ever touch Brian this way.

"You nervous?"

"Scared shitless."

"The great Toretto, scaredy cat?"

Dom wanted to ask what he was thinking, whether he was still in this for Mia or not -- or if this was about being a cop now, about the glory. He wasn't convinced Brian was one hundred percent, either. After the phone call, they'd gone back to the house. Dom had taken Brian downstairs to the cellar, pulling out a large, old canister above the washing machine that had been used to store soap. He dug around in the powder and pulled up a plastic bag filled with rubber-banded bills.

Brian had whistled. "Holy shit."

"Cash on delivery."

"Don't know that I've ever seen that much cash in one place."

"Won't get to see it for long."

Something in Brian had quieted then, grown distant even though it still felt like they were close. They'd killed some more time counting everything out, double checking before they were due to hook up with Tanner and the teams. All the while, Dom had wondered if maybe Brian finally really saw him for what he was: a worthless criminal. It was so hard to get a handle on what Brian truly thought. Even when Dom believed he might know, he didn't -- because here Brian was, still trying to protect him, worried that there was still more he could do.

They both turned their heads when they heard footsteps crunching through gravel. Tanner leaned on the door. "You about ready to saddle up?"

Brian tossed his car keys in the air. "Locked and loaded."

"Let's do this." He smacked the edge of the door a couple of times, and Dom glanced at him as they went to the car. Something in Tanner's face told Dom he wasn't sure they were going to make it, either. He hoped to prove everyone wrong, including himself.

 

 

At the dirt path to the cabin, they pulled in and drove carefully up the bumpy drive. It didn't look like the kind of place Tony would keep, so Dom wondered where he'd found it. Maybe there was some kind of guidebook for criminals that listed great spots for deals. He'd found the place near Thermal where they'd hidden the Hondas because of information Berto had provided. Could be they all just swapped locations around like they were talking about the hot new club or restaurant.

They circled around and parked the car nose out. Once the cavalry came running, he wanted to make the fastest exit possible. Dom hoped his arm would be strong enough to shift after that stupid little jaunt they'd taken last night. Or this morning, really. Only a few hours and the world was upended again.

Brian leaned casually against the driver's side door as Dom paced around the drive. You'd be hard pressed to tell that Brian felt anything at all, yet Dom got the sensation of being totally helpless out here in the open, in the freaking _countryside_ , waiting for some psychotic fuck who'd just as soon kill you as look at you.

No matter how bad things got since his father's death and leaving Lompoc, at least Dom had been in charge, set the rules. Now he was stuck reacting, waiting, allowing himself to be someone else's pawn. In some ways it was worse for him than the crash a few days ago. That was physical pain, something he could deal with. So many years spent taking care of people, and now he could barely take care of himself. Letty would have fixed him with that squint and told him he was fucking with people's lives just as much as Tony was. Vince would have argued with him not to do this and risk everything, and Jesse... Jess would have provided some kind of cracked explanation for why this would never work. Leon would maintain, as he always did. The only one who'd tell him he was doing the right thing was Brian.

The sun was beating down hard here, hot wind blowing over them. Brian squinted into the glare, scanning in all directions. Waiting had never been Dom's strong suit, and he was pretty sure from watching Brian that it wasn't his, either. Though Brian pretended it didn't matter, Dom hoped that killing Tran hadn't left him too shaky or twitchy about doing what might have to be done.

The sound of an engine carried through the trees, then two, then tires crunching grit and rocks. He went over to stand behind his car, but not close to Brian. Dom wanted to make sure they kept their eyes only on himself. The first SUV pulled up near the cabin; the other closer to him. Tony's hired guns all got out first, making sure he could see their weapons. Pathetic.

Tony got out of the vehicle closest to Dominic, smiling yet remaining a few paces back, just to be on the safe side. He wasn't expecting anything, but the boy could be very unpredictable -- and the way he was acting over his sister, it was hard to gauge what might happen.

"You brought your mechanic!" he said. Might as well start out on a positive note.

Dominic cocked his head. "More importantly, I brought the money."

Tony tapped his hand against his thigh. He knew Dominic couldn't see where his gaze fell with his sunglasses on, but the tension in him was obvious as he turned slightly toward the blond. Protective stance, really, that's what it was. He offered, "I'm still willing to consider other options, you know. You let your mechanic come work for me, and... we can call the whole thing even. Mia for... Brian, wasn't it?"

" _Work_ for you?" This wasn't as fun as his usual sparring with Dominic. Something really was going on with him and this new crew member; he'd always been patriarchal, but this was distinguished by something far more... dangerous, Tony thought: the way his posture changed, the anger radiating off him like a burn. Everything about him was different now. Tony usually didn't like different.

"Oh. You know what I mean." He made a little "easy come, easy go" gesture.

"Yeah, that's the problem. I do. Told you already, he's off the menu."

Sighing heavily, Tony said, "You can't possibly be that attached to him. What if I said that I'm not interested in the money? That the only thing I'm interested in is him... or maybe you?"

Dominic hesitated, and Tony realized in the silence it was time to back off. His high was at the edge of wearing off and this was growing less fun by the minute; a sharp, tiny pain had started up just behind his eyes. Too much sunshine, not enough coke. In the SUV, the girl made dissatisfied noises, growing restless, and that might make Team Toretto just a little bit too jumpy. People with guns shouldn't be jumpy.

"Then I'd say you got a personality transplant. Since when did a piece of ass matter more to you than money?"

Lips drawn tight, Tony took his glasses off and squinted at Dom. "It's just business, Dominic. You've taken all this too seriously from the start."

After a long, heated glare, Dom said, "My bad." Well, he did admire the young man's style.

"Oh, all right. Be in a mood. Bring the money over here."

Dom opened the trunk and reached for the small gear bag, relieved that Tony wasn't going to push it. He noticed the way Brian watched him: cautious, tenser by the second, the look on his face almost saying "stay back." But Dom went ahead, brought the bag over to Tony, and shoved it into his hands. "Count it if you want."

"Oh, no, no, I have faith in you, as I keep saying," Tony said, his sunglasses between his teeth so that everything came out with a lisp. He looked it over, then waved a finger. "Even Steven."

Mia got out of the truck, hugging her arms around herself, staring sadly at Dom. It was make or break right now, Dom could feel it -- unsure whether Tony would really let her go or kill them all just for grins. He reached out and took her gently by the shoulder, walking her quickly to the car. She trembled under his hand. "It's okay, baby. We're almost there. Just stay frosty." She wouldn't even look at him, but he couldn't blame her. Probably once they were free and clear she'd kick his balls up into his belly.

As he put her into the passenger side he heard the crunching tires of the tactical vans, saw the SWAT guys coming through the trees. _Shit_. This was happening faster than he expected. Way, way too fast. Brian gestured at him, shouting "Go! Get her out of here." But then it was too late.

The sensible thing for Tony and his guys would have been to give up, but of course they had to put up a fight. Dom only heard the gunfire that erupted around him because he was so focused on pulling Mia behind the van; whatever else was going on, he couldn't see it. He crouched around her protectively as she tried to say something, but her words were lost in all the noise. When he looked up he could see that Brian had pulled off the outer shirt so his LAPD-labeled vest showed, and he was now firing over the Mazda, at what Dom couldn't quite see. Events moved in slow motion. He looked to his left through the open door of the van, noticing that there was a shotgun in the rack. Sliding up the side, he reached in and grabbed it just as he saw Tony make a run for the cabin. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Dom made a run for Tony, just hoping they weren't going to forget who he was and shoot the bald guy running around without any insignias. Mia shouted his name under the gunfire. This all sounded much too familiar.

This time, at least, it was Tony's guys going down, not one of his friends. Tony was almost at the cabin stairs when Dom knocked him down from behind with a hard blow from the butt. He hefted the shotgun up to grab it by the forestock, cocked it, and pointed it at Tony's head. "Don't even think about it."

Rubbing his hand over the back of his head, Tony muttered under his panting breaths, "Cop. You're a fucking cop."

"Not even close. But you fucked with my family, Tony. That ain't just business." Dom's arm shook from the weight of the gun. He could do it: blow Tony's head off right now, do everyone a favor. Even though Tanner wanted him for trial, he wouldn't have to worry about him getting off on a technicality. The gunfire was dying down, but no one would notice at first, not in all this mess.

Except that Brian would know, somehow. And he would be disappointed. He heard a voice behind him then, a stranger. One of the FBI guys, his weapon fixed on Tony. "It's okay, Mr. Toretto. We got it." He put a gloved hand gently on the barrel, pushing it down. "Stand down, we got him." This was a guy who clearly knew how to talk to upset people with guns; Dom lowered the shotgun as he was asked. "Here, I'll take that." Even though his face was partly covered, Dom could see in his eyes that the guy was aware of just why Dom shouldn't have a shotgun. A little friendly understanding in the middle of a shootout was not what he'd expected from the LAPD.

It didn't take long for superior firepower to knock down a few of Tony's point men, and Brian got off a couple of hits himself. The ones who'd been hit were already being dragged back to the two medic trucks. It took them a while to get the message that they were on the losing side, but it finally sunk in when enough of them got hurt.

Brian was busy moving in on one of Gregory's men when he'd seen Dom run past the truck, carrying a shotgun. There was nothing Brian could do to back Dom up or protect Mia, since he was busy shooting it out with one of the thugs. When the guy in front of him laid down his gun and hit the dirt, Brian whipped his cuffs off the belt and dug his knee into the guy's back, yanking his arms hard behind him. People who'd never done this kind of thing had no idea how easy it was to rough up a suspect. The level of fear was so intense it turned into a kind of rage; people shot at you, tried to kill you, and the normal reaction to such a situation was not one of restraint.

That was what worried him most about Dom -- seeing him with the shotgun, knowing how easy it was to lose control even for a pro. He'd refused the handgun because of what he was afraid of doing, but now that he'd let himself loose on Tony... Brian understood what it was like, how easily you could step over the line, but no one else would get that. They would only see the brutal ex-con in him coming out, if he went that far. Fortunately, though, one of the SWAT guys appeared to have a handle on it; he took the gun out of Dom's hands and was talking him down, it looked like.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dom go back over, pull Mia up from behind the van, and gently smooth his hands over her hair. He'd held her like that before, but it had been in joy; now as he put his arms around her, squeezing tight, she didn't return the affection. The guy underneath Brian thrashed around, so Brian drove his knee harder into his back to quiet him down. On his other side, a team had surrounded Gregory, manhandling him into one of the trucks. Overhead the police chopper circled around out of range; somewhere in the distance he could hear Tanner bark out commands. His heart still pounded hard in his chest; even the raid on the Trans hadn't been quite this exhilarating. Maybe not as exciting as jumping on a moving semi truck with a 12-gauge blasting at you, but still pretty damn high on the intense-o-meter.

As Brian hauled the guy up so he could slip the cuffs over the SUV's door handle, he found himself knocked backwards by a blow to his midsection, stumbling to keep his footing. He heard a sound -- a tiny, sharp crack -- and then noticed that the guy had turned around. There was a gun in his hand.

Heat bloomed along his side, just above his hip. Brian touched his hand to his abdomen, just under the bottom edge of his vest. When he pulled it away, slick red blood covered his fingers. "Oh, shit," he said, and his knees went out from under him.

As he hit the ground he saw a team swarm over the guy who'd shot him. It was like being stuck in a weird dream, watching it all sideways, a kind of white haze surrounding everything. People running, shouting, but he couldn't follow the pictures, like a fuzzy, stuttering tape. And then there was Dom, running toward him, Mia in tow. He tried to say something to Dom, but he couldn't tell if he was getting any sound out.

Dom crouched over Brian, trying to figure out what had happened. He'd seen Brian go down, heard what sounded like a single shot in the quiet. At first he couldn't tell what was wrong, but as he pushed the vest up, the blood seeping through the light blue t-shirt became obvious. "Oh god, Brian. Oh, Jesus."

"Only a flesh wound," Brian said with a little laugh, but that made him cough. His face betrayed his pain.

"My ass." He pulled Brian up, resting his head on his thigh. "It's okay, baby. Don't move."

Again Brian laughed. He looked up at Dom with those spooky blue eyes. "Did you just call me _baby_?"

He made a half-hearted attempt at a smile. "I'm Italian, I call everyone baby. Don't let it go to your head."

Raising his hand weakly, Brian slapped at Dom's arm. "Faggot." Dom took his hand, wrapped his fingers around it, and pulled it to his chest. Brian's eyes almost rolled back in his head. Dom's mouth was dry; he tried to swallow but his throat stuck.

"Yeah. That's me." Brian looked like he was fading in and out already. A nine at close range like that... he had to be bleeding badly out the back, assuming the bullet went all the way through. But he didn't want to move him to check. Christ, he wondered angrily, where the fuck were the medics? Why weren't they calling them back? "Be quiet, don't talk."

He looked up at Mia. Her face told him of her confusion and fear; all of this had to remind her painfully of what happened with Jesse. It would have been bad enough as it was, but to hear him call Brian pet names... foolish move. He wasn't careful enough when he got emotional.

"Wasn't... paying attention. Sorry. Screwed up again."

"I mean it, shut up." Dom's hand was bloody, but he smoothed it across Brian's forehead anyway, and squeezed his clammy hand.

"You keep telling me that."

"Well, you keep calling me dumbass. So we're even."

"It's cold." Brian's lips were turning almost white.

"You're in shock. You need to stop talking," he said through clenched teeth, trying to keep it together, using every bit of strength he had not to lose it completely. Brian needed him to keep it together.

Mia was screaming at the cops about the ambulance. God bless his sister, even at her most fragile, she was still the kind of person who took no shit. She dropped to her knees, pressing her palms down on the entrance wound. Dom was abruptly aware of the fact that all of this had taken only a few seconds. He pushed his hand underneath Brian's back, as she showed him. When he heard Tanner behind him, he raised his head, glaring.

The sergeant was shouting into his walkie-talkie. "We don't have time for those medics to come back. Get that chopper down here _now_."

Mia pressed her forehead to his shoulder, holding on to Brian, until the chopper landed. She never took her hand from his, even when they carried Brian away.

 


	7. Small Sacrifices

> **Out onto an open road you ride until the day  
>  You learn to sleep at night with the price you pay**

  


The hospital's surgical waiting area was enormous. There were about sixty large industrial square-block foam chairs that few people could sit on comfortably, especially not someone Dom's size.

He'd rather have stayed back in the emergency room waiting area even with all the freaks that collected in a place like that, but Tanner had ended up here instead, so Dom had been required to follow.

He'd already been up to the fourth floor to visit Mia, who'd complained all the way up there. She'd insisted that the once-over they gave her in emergency was fine, _she_ was fine, but they wanted to keep her overnight and even though her desire to argue with Dom outweighed her common sense, she had finally been coerced to stay. Dehydrated, they told him, not to mention bumps and scrapes received while putting up a fight with her kidnappers. All of her symptoms only served to make her crankier. Unfortunately, Dom couldn't blame her. "We're gonna be here a while, no matter what," he'd reminded her. Dom wasn't so certain that Tanner hadn't been the one to engineer her stay there, more to get her comfortable before everyone started asking her questions than anything else.

He had stayed while they put her in the room, then asked the cop lurking nearby, and the staff, to leave them alone for a bit.

Even after all that had happened with Brian, Mia still didn't want to look at him. He stroked her hair, not talking. Dom wanted it to be the way it used to be for a little while, just him taking care of her, soothing her. Finally she looked up at him and frowned. "They didn't do anything to me. Not what you're thinking."

"How do you know what I'm thinking?" But of course she always did, and it never failed to creep him out.

"I always know what you're thinking." She paused, turned on the TV, and stared intently at it.

"If they had done... something to you, would you even tell me?"

Mia looked away. "No. Because about the last thing I need is for you to have done all this and then go out looking to get all medieval on someone's ass and land yourself back in prison. And they didn't do anything like that. They weren't exactly pleasant, but they didn't hurt me after they parked my ass in the house."

"I'm so sorry, baby. I never thought--"

"You didn't think. Big surprise. You never thought, Dom. You were always all about being the big shot, the badass. I enjoyed you enjoying it, but I was always scared about this criminal bullshit. I love you so much and I wouldn't put my foot down because I loved you too much. I didn't do what Mama or Daddy would have done, and I should have. "

He rubbed his hand over his mouth. "Don't they call that tough love?"

"Not tough enough. I should have kicked your ass. So should Let and Vince and Leon and Jesse, but everybody lets you get away with murder."

Mia had looked at him then, really looked at him even though she was angry and exasperated. And she was horrified at herself for cutting that close to the bone. He'd blanched as she said it, the color draining from his face, eyes cast to the side and narrowed.

Dom pulled a chair over and sat down, rubbing his head with his good hand. God, she hadn't even had time to ask him about all that. When the police had brought her in for questioning right after Jess had been shot, they'd told her about Dom being injured, emphasized that he was under arrest. But she'd had no idea he would look this bad -- bruises all over the place, a gash on his scalp, the cast... and the way he moved with wincing caution, she wondered if he had a cracked rib or two. Her brother was so strong, so tough, that he would never let injuries like that throw him off, and she loved him even more for going on even though he was hurting. He'd worked so hard to get her back. But Mia was still pissed underneath it all, for how he'd gone ahead with that last hijacking, for letting everything go bad.

"I'm sorry, Dom. I shouldn't--"

"Nah, I deserved it. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me being a _badass_ and a _big shot_."

"Dom..."

"No. Don't say it. I gotta work it out myself, anyway. And yeah, I know Mama and Dad would have been disgusted with me. Don't think I don't know that."

She turned the TV off and settled her head down into the lumpy pillows. The IV was already annoying her after only a few minutes. _Electrolytes, my ass._ "What was all that stuff back there with Brian?"

He glanced away, looking shifty-eyed. Okay, so he was more than willing to beat himself up about everything he'd done wrong, but he wasn't going to cop to questions about Brian. Typical Dom behavior. "He helped me when he didn't have anything to gain. Turned out to be a good friend."

"Uh huh."

Dom fixed her with a look. "Oughtta go check on him, anyway. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, Dom, I'm always okay. I'm not gonna drop this. I want to know what's going on. How did Brian get involved in this? Why was he putting his life on the line to help us?" She wanted to know a hell of a lot more than that, but she figured he wasn't going to tell her anything important anyway. God, she almost hated him when he was this pig-headed. Ever since prison he'd done that thing where he'd just shut down if you asked him exactly the right -- or maybe wrong -- question, or got a little too close to him. Mia knew she could get away with more than many others could, but Dom shut even her out too much lately, way more than she preferred -- not to mention understood. This was worse than any time since their father's death. Dom put on a good show, one Mia was pretty sure most others bought into, but _she_ was the one who saw him alone, saw the real him that only came out when he was away from the others. What she'd seen today... the way he'd touched Brian, the anguish in his eyes, that was the real him, the face he didn't show very often. Not unlike how he'd looked when Jesse had been shot. Or when he'd found out Brian was a cop.

Dom decided that it was time to go, before she _really_ pressured him to talk about Brian. He got up and paused in the doorway, looking back at her. No matter what happened, no matter what she faced, Mia was always feisty. And she knew him better than anybody, better than Dom wanted to be known. Despite all that, though, he had no way to explain any of this to her, especially since he didn't even really understand it himself. "When you're better... when everything's calmed down," he said quietly, offering her the only crumb he could. He knocked his fist against the door frame a couple times. "I'll be back once we get news."

"Whether or not there's news, get your ass back up here. You are _not_ leaving me here by myself again."

He smiled. "Roger that."

"Asshole."

"Love you."

"Love you, too, asshole."

 

 

It took him a while to find Tanner. The sergeant was sitting there nursing a cup of coffee, looking pretty much the worse for wear. Probably getting way too old for games like this. When he saw Dom approach, he moved over to make room on the crappy chair. "They booted us out of emergency when you went with your sister, said this was the place to wait. In case there are any questions."

Dom didn't even want to think about what kind of questions they could possibly ask. It reminded him of Vince's surgeons deciding whether or not to amputate one of his limbs.

"Heard anything yet?"

"Nope."

They sat in silence for a long time. Why did people always describe silences like this as companionable? There was nothing friendly or comfortable about it. Tanner had an aura radiating off him that said he pretty much wanted to skin Dom alive.

"How's your sister?" Tanner finally asked.

"Okay. Calling me names, so everything's back to normal."

"She up to answering questions? I sent a uniform up there."

"Yeah. I made him wait so I could talk to her. Just go easy on her, okay? She's shakier than she's willing to let on." Dom had almost warned the cop away, but then decided he should let them all find out about her temper on their own. Besides, it would be funner for her that way. He kind of enjoyed watching Mia light into someone when she was pissed. "So, how long is this going to take, you think?" Dom wasn't certain he could sit still for long enough, not with Tanner, anyway.

"Gunshot wound? A long time. He's in good shape, though. I asked them to bring him here because they have one of the best trauma guys in the city. A little farther to go, but I think his chances are better here than if we used one of the hospitals closer in."

Dom leaned back in the seat, trying to get comfortable, though that was an impossible task. "He had a lot of other injuries. From before. Not as good of shape as you think."

Tanner looked at him sideways. "From _before_?"

"The last job. Brian came after us. He saved Vince's life by jumping on a moving semi. Then back on to his own car." The guy probably would not appreciate hearing how ballsy Dom thought that had been, so he left it out.

"Interesting." Tanner stroked the sides of his goatee, contemplating that. "He managed to leave that part out of his story."

"Figured that."

Dom pointed a finger at his coffee cup a couple times. "I gotta get me one of those."

Tanner watched him walk to the courtyard area out front, where the coffee cart was. He seemed shakier, less intense than before. This whole thing had rattled him a lot more than he wanted to let on, but it showed to someone who watched with careful eyes.

It was hard to tell which person's situation worried Toretto more: his sister's or O'Conner's. And that was an interesting little study. Brian had painted a pretty clear picture of what Toretto was like, emotional yet self-contained, but back at the meet site, his behavior had seemed a little more... intense than Tanner had expected. Certainly nothing like the picture of the cool customer Brian had tried to paint way back in the beginning.

When Toretto got back with his coffee he sat down, elbows on knees, tapping his foot annoyingly fast.

"There's a lot we still have to discuss, you know."

"Yeah." Toretto didn't look at him when he answered.

"I've reassessed my opinion of you. Not a lot, so don't get cocky or think you're in the clear. But I see you're not only a thug, which is about all I was willing to give you before."

"This going somewhere? Or are we just having a moment?"

Tanner tried not to grin, shaking his head. "You had a chance to make good on your mistakes, and you did. But what are you going to do now that this is over?"

"Haven't thought that far."

"Well, you should. After all this, do you think you can keep street racing? Pulling small-time crime jobs so you can maintain the bling bling and the hot cars? Maybe it's time to reassess what you're doing -- or not doing -- with your life."

Toretto finally turned to look at him, his eyebrows raised. Whatever mocking remark he wanted to make he bit back, and it was obviously killing him.

"Did you ever stop to consider that now you have the word of two police officers -- and maybe, if he's in a good mood, even the reluctant support of an FBI agent -- to help you clean up the rest of your record? That maybe the work you did here today might earn you the chance to get back to the track?"

The way Toretto's eyes shifted back and forth pretty much answered that question. He was caught in the sights and didn't know what to do right now.

"Brian told me about what you were doing for Linder, too. You're trying to make amends, and you never know, that might go a long way with the people who banned you from racing. I know it would go a long way for me if it was one of my uniforms."

"Yeah, but I ain't in that life."

"You weren't in the life you're in now before your father died, either."

"Good point."

Dom thought about everything he'd said, wondering why Tanner would even bring any of that stuff up. Except that it must have something to do with Brian, how Tanner felt about him. That fatherly thing again. He found it hard to believe that anyone would be willing to do such things for him after the trouble he'd caused, the hurt he'd left in his wake. But Tanner wasn't the kind of guy who'd shine you on, either.

"So, let's say I go back to being a law-abiding citizen with my nice shiny clean record. Then what?"

"Well, I would say that's up to you." The guy had a smirk on his face. Now he could see what had made Brian so irritated back then -- it was like Tanner had some kind of private line on you that he'd only hint at and you were supposed to figure it all out based on the life wisdom you gained just from being around him, grasshopper.

"You make it sound so easy."

He scratched his head. "No, I would never say that." He reached into his pocket and pulled out some paper -- two receipt slips, one yellow, one pink -- that he gave to Dom. "There's this car in impound, a classic. Dodge Charger, I think. Really messed up in an accident. But someone who knew what they were doing could rebuild her. Know anyone like that?"

Dom took the paper, stared at it for a long time. He felt a little weird and had trouble finding his voice. "I might." Okay, so now he could see why Brian liked the guy.

They sat for a long time, listening to the sounds of pages, cell phones, the hum of other people waiting for news. Eventually they saw the doctor come toward them, so they both stood.

"You're not... the family?" he asked, obviously surprised, and Tanner and Dom looked at each other.

"We're pretty much all he's got," Dom answered.

"I'm his sergeant," Tanner said, extending his hand. "How is he?"

The doctor rubbed at his eyes. "Well, we're lucky in some respects. Your basic nine millimeter round, full metal jacket, so it went through nice and clean. There was a fair amount of damage, but it was the blood loss more than anything. And... he had a few other injuries that surprised us, which didn't help a lot. Was he in some kind of car accident recently?"

Dom shifted uneasily. "Uh... something like that."

"That would have been good to know about." It wasn't a glare, but it was close. "Well, he's stable now, though it was a little dicey there for a bit, so we have him in ICU for the night. You can see him in a few hours, but he won't be very aware."

"As long as he's gonna be okay," Tanner said, something of a tremble in his voice.

"I think so. Do you have any questions?"

"You didn't have to... take anything out or anything like that?" Dom asked, recalling the news about Vince.

"No, nothing like that. Sewed a lot of things up, though." The doctor smiled, although it didn't help Dom's distress at all. "Why don't you get some dinner, and by the time you're done, you can check to see if it's all right to visit?"

They both nodded, waiting until he walked away before they sat down again. Like a couple of puppets.

"Shit. I knew he was worse off than he let on." Dom balled his hand up in a fist.

"He's a tough kid, he'll be all right."

"Kinda not my point. But whatever."

Tanner glowered at him, that disapproving-dad stare. "You know, you're kidding yourself if you think you understand him."

Dom leaned back in the chair, taking a long drink of his rapidly cooling coffee. "Who says I think I understand him?"

"People who become cops do it for a reason. It's something they really believe in. It's who they are. Brian worked very hard to get where he was, to get noticed enough to be picked for an assignment like this. I understand him getting sucked into your life -- for a kid like him, having a family and friends all of a sudden... I get why it appealed to him. But do you really think he should throw away what he worked for so he can hang out with the cool street-racing kids? So he can, what, work on cars and maybe do some crime on the side?"

Dom stared straight ahead while Tanner talked, even though it stung. But he absolutely didn't want to show the sonofabitch how much of a nerve he'd hit.

"He's not gonna go back and be your whipping boy, either," Dom said. "He's not dumb enough to think that he can walk back into a station house and be accepted after what happened."

Tanner was quiet for a long time, but Dom couldn't figure out whether or not the guy was pissed.

"Whatever it is that got you two connected, whatever kind of friendship you have going, don't believe for one minute that it's more important to him than being a cop. He seems to think very highly of you... and for reasons I don't understand, you're... friends now. But a friend, a real one, would make sure he doesn't make any decisions he might live to regret because of some misguided, star-struck loyalty. "

"Brian makes his own decisions. Nobody influences him unless he wants it." It annoyed Dom that no one seemed to want to give Brian credit for being his own man -- hell, for being a man at all. They acted like he was some gullible teenage boy.

"Well, that's the thing you might want to think more on, then, isn't it? Just who you really are to him. To your friends." Tanner rose, patting Dom on the shoulder a couple times. "I'm going to go down to the cafeteria. Maybe you should go look in on your sister."

 

 

Dom stood in the ICU room watching the colorful monitor readouts, keeping far away from Brian's bed. It was spooky to see him like that, the normally tanned skin so pale, tubes running everywhere. He found himself praying without even really thinking about it; some kind of comfort in the rote language of his childhood. The nurse monitoring the equipment kept asking if he needed anything, tried to get him to sit down, but he preferred to stand.

A while later Tanner slid up beside him. Dom only half-turned and said, "Who is it that he reminds you of?"

"My son. Though I don't know if he'd have turned out like Brian. Just that certain things Brian does or says bring him back."

"He's gone?"

"Died when he was thirteen." He rubbed a hand over his head. "Got hit by a car when he was out riding his bike."

"I'm sorry."

"Well, we all have our crosses to bear, don't we?" Tanner looked pointedly at him. The guy was definitely a lot tougher than Dom had realized.

"Did you handle it?" Dom asked. "Or did you just go to pieces? I'm thinking you come by the shrink insights one way or another."

"Jesus, you _are_ a smart-ass, aren't you?" Tanner shook his head, smiling his quick, grimace-like smile. "I handled it. I went to pieces, just like you in some ways. A little of both. The handling it lost me my wife, and the not handling it almost lost me everything else."

"That's why the job means so much. To you, to him. No family. The only thing you really have left."

"That's a luxury you have on both of us. I wonder if you really appreciate all of it? Brian would hate to see you throw so much away if you keep going how you're going. At least, I'm fairly certain that's what he'd feel."

"Even if I don't throw it away, as you call it... you still think I'm some kind of bad influence on him. That I'm gonna drag him down."

Tanner sighed, put his hands in his pockets, then turned to go. He stopped in the open entryway, looking down at the floor. "Would a good influence have put him in that bed?"

Dom leaned back against the glass. He watched the faint rise and fall of Brian's chest, like he was barely breathing.

There was really only one answer to that question, and he'd known it all along.

 

 

When Dom woke up the next morning, stiff and sore from trying to sleep in two really uncomfortable hospital chairs shoved together for a makeshift bed, Mia was still asleep. She had clearly been more exhausted than she'd realized, because she'd been asleep when he got here and only woke up long enough to hear about Brian and tell him what she'd told the cops when they'd questioned her.

Dom went into the tiny bathroom and tried to clean up as much as he could, get the foul taste out of his mouth. By now he was starving; he'd eaten her leftover fruit cup and yogurt, but that was not enough to keep him going. Once he was done he went down to the cafeteria to get something quick to eat, then back up to see Brian. He was fast learning his way around this place. There was a new nurse who told him they planned to move Brian down to a regular floor later in the day. Dom took up the same position of leaning against the glass wall, almost afraid to get too close to Brian for fear of waking him. Dom wanted him to rest as much as possible, not try to talk or sit up, and he knew what a stubborn little fucker Brian was. He'd want to apologize or explain, something like that.

A while later he turned to see Mia coming up behind; she paused and put her hand against the glass, cocking her head sideways. He nodded to let her know it was okay, but he couldn't manage a smile.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Better enough that they plan to move him later."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Not yet. Want him to rest."

"Yeah." She squinted at Dom. "He'll be okay. He's strong." It was the way she said it, the knowledge she had of him, that brought Dom up short. How would he explain to her what had happened? If she wasn't already hurt enough, something like that could crush her. Dom had no idea what she really felt for the guy anymore.

"They let you go?" he asked. She seemed almost back to normal.

"Ah, I'm not officially checked out yet. Takes forever, I guess. But while they're finishing up the paperwork I figured you'd be here and I'd see how things were." She brushed a hand over her leg. "God, I cannot _wait_ to get out of these freaking clothes. This is just gross."

Smoothing a hand over her hair, he said, "I'm sorry, Mia. You have no idea how sorry I am."

"I know, I do. Really. It's just... I hope you're out of this now. Dom, please tell me that you're not doing this criminal bullshit anymore."

"They cleared my record. That was the deal -- I give them Tony, they clear my record and Vince's. No charges against anyone else. And they don't bring Brian up on charges."

"Is he in a lot of trouble?"

He motioned for her to follow him into the hallway. With his hand wrapped around her arm in an attempt to keep her calm, he said, "He let me go. After we got... after he shot Johnny, he let me go. The cops were coming."

"I thought you said you had an accident. That that's why you ended up in the hospital, because you got caught." Her voice was strained; she was desperately trying to rein in her anger at him, but it wasn't working. Dom squeezed harder and she cast her eyes down at his hand, then back up to his face.

"Yeah. But the accident was because Brian and I raced. And when it was over he let me go. I smashed up the Charger. We went through a train crossing and barely missed getting hit."

" _Jesus_ , Dom. I can't _believe_ this shit!" She turned to look in the room. "I'm surprised they didn't just throw him in jail since they didn't have you. Between that and what he did for Vince..." She yanked her arm away. "Goddammit. Just... goddamn all of you and your testosterone bullshit."

"He threw it all away for us. Didn't even think twice. That's who he is, I guess." It was still a little hard to believe all that had happened.

Mia crossed her arms over her chest, kicked a toe at his boot. "Does this mean I have to forgive him?"

Dom barked out a laugh. "Up to you."

With her lips drawn tight, Mia gave him a half-smile. It was obviously forced, though. "I'm going to go get my stuff. Do you want to go home after I get released?" That wasn't even a question; it was her way of saying "take me home ASAP."

"Sure." Dom absolutely didn't want to leave Brian alone, but knew he had to. "Meet you down there in a few minutes."

Even though he didn't want to wake Brian, he went in and sat down by the bed. Brian opened his eyes at the noise, taking a few minutes to focus. "Hey," he said in a shaky voice.

"Hey, yourself. I have to take Mia home, she's okay but she had to spend the night . I'll be back, though. They're going to move you to a regular room, and I'll be back by the time you're settled."

Brian looked like he had trouble processing that information; he stared past Dom's shoulder for a while before answering, "Long drive." So he knew where he was.

"You're worth it. Just don't do anything stupid till I get back. Then you can be as stupid as you want to."

"Got my back." He gave Dom a small, weak smile.

"On it, all the way." He looked up, didn't see anyone paying attention to them, and ran the backs of his fingers across Brian's forehead. "You scared me. I was afraid I'd lost you."

Brian closed his eyes, mumbling something Dom couldn't make out. Then he caught _dumbass_ on the end of it, and knew Brian was okay.

 

 

When Brian came to for real, he was in a different room, a smaller, more confined space with a window that let way too much sunshine flood in. He was hot and sweaty but at the same time cold, and thirsty as hell. He remembered Dom talking to him at some point, a blond nurse who was very kind, and a lot of machines. The wound in his side throbbed. He looked around, remembering that they'd told him something about morphine, but he couldn't recall what they'd said with much clarity. There it was: a button near his hand, which he pushed weakly. He supposed that with something as huge as a bullet wound, the pain management would be pretty base-level. You'd just have to deal, take the edge off as much as you could.

He looked at the contraptions on the arm of the bed, then rang for the nurse. Maybe they'd at least let him have some water. While he waited he tried to recall everything that had happened, but it as a jumble. The guy he'd been handcuffing had a gun. He remembered watching Dom and Mia, then being knocked backwards. Then Dom pawing at him and very panicked. Being on a helicopter, which was kind of wild and something he'd certainly have enjoyed more if he hadn't felt like someone had gutted him with a bowie knife.

He was tired even though he'd barely been awake an hour, but he didn't want to fall asleep. Still, Brian didn't want to watch TV or anything else that might help him stay awake; it was weird to feel both restless and exhausted. He read the whiteboard at the foot of the bed with its unintelligible instructions for the different staff. One set of initials he did get: GSW. Until this assignment, he'd never drawn his gun. Now he'd not only drawn it a _lot_ , against a person he knew, even, but he'd killed someone -- shot an actual human being. And now he'd been shot, wounded... it was a lot to take in, a lot to accept.

And under all of those thoughts, Brian kept hearing Tanner's voice pointing out that nothing like this had ever happened to him until he'd met Dom. Brian got that: Tanner wanted to keep him away from Dom. He could easily list all the reasons he disapproved of Brian's faith in Dom: you weren't supposed to believe in the mark. Weren't supposed to befriend them, encourage them to go straight and live a better life. And Tanner just plain thought Dom was dangerous; now whatever argument Brian could have made in Dom's defense wouldn't exactly hold up. Not from a hospital bed, anyway.

They'd given a bunch of technical mumbo-jumbo to him about the surgery. No major damage, but he didn't remember the rest. Finally the nurse came and took him out of his reverie. Ice chips only and then slowly they'd introduce him to soft foods. God, that meant those awful supplement shakes.

After a while Brian drifted off again despite his best efforts to stay awake. When he awoke, Dom was standing by the window, rubbing his right arm above the cast. He had that wrinkly forehead look and his mouth was drawn tightly. Brian said, "Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Even though there was a chair, Dom didn't come over to sit in it. "How you doing?"

"Okay. Thirsty, but they won't give me anything except ice chips yet." Talking was more tiring than he expected. His entire _body_ felt groggy.

"Pain?"

"Yeah. But, you know..."

Dom cocked his head, face relaxing. "Yeah." Sometimes, Brian thought, his eyes just sparkled. There was something so alive about him, no matter how stressed or strained he was. "You lost a lot of blood, I guess."

"They told me."

"Brian, I'm sorry--"

"Don't." Brian cut him off harshly, waving his hand in the air. "Don't start on that."

Finally Dom came over and sat down, leaning elbows on knees, head lowered. "It's the same bullshit. It wouldn't have happened except for me. It's like all I do is apologize now."

Brian was too tired, too addle-brained for this kind of crap. He'd hoped by now that Dom would have gotten over the King of Pain act. Closing his eyes, he said calmly, "Look. Whatever happened, happened because I let it. I made the decision to be there. So stop with the fucking self pity and the guilt because it drives me crazy and I'm not in any condition to hear it."

Dom gave a little snort. "Still haven't lost your ability to kick my ass. Call me a little god, though, and I'm smothering you with the pillow."

The pain in Brian's side was positively white-hot level now, and he swallowed a couple of times. "Well, _someone_ has to."

"You'll be happy to know that Mia's doing a good job of it, then."

The best Brian could do was an almost-laugh, but that hurt, bad. He reached out, moved his hand idly in the air, keeping his eyes closed. It seemed to take Dom forever to figure out that he should take Brian's hand. Comforting, though, to have those big strong fingers twined through his, rough and smooth at the same time. He could never figure out how someone who worked on cars all day could have such nice hands.

"If you don't stop with the guilt shit, I won't let you come back."

"Right. Like you're going to stop me." God, he loved the sound of that voice, the low vibration rolling over him. He'd missed that so much; maybe that was the worst part of being in the hospital. Brian felt ten times better just having Dom around, even if he was only half-conscious.

He swallowed, that drifting, floating feeling overtaking him. "Yeah, like I am." He was out of it again, falling into black space, drained. Then he felt Dom's lips on his, just briefly, before he slept.

 

 

"Why are you dressed like that?" Brian asked Dom. He definitely felt better now that they were giving him food -- even if it was just crappy sick-person food -- and letting him walk around. Okay, maybe not walking, but sort of shuffling along for a few steps every day. He'd had his first full physical therapy session the day before, and still slept most of the day away while waiting for Dom to show up. Usually Dom came in the late afternoon and stayed through the evening. No one really bothered about visiting hours here, but the staff tended to frown on people staying too late. He and Dom didn't even talk much, which suited Brian just as well despite the pleasure he took in the sound of Dom's voice. Just watched TV, filled each other in with various progress reports -- Brian's health status, Vince's recovery, what was going on with Mia and Letty and Leon.

But today Dom had arrived wearing a suit: dark blue with a gray-blue shirt and a tie in the same shade, only a deeper hue. He looked... stunning, but Brian couldn't use that word without laughing now. Like a model or something -- the fabric draped on him just so, his build emphasized to show off those wide, muscular shoulders and narrower waist and hips. His skin looked darker, his eyes kind of... well, dazzling. Christ. With a few carefully chosen clothes he'd managed to reduce Brian's vocabulary to a teenage girl's.

"Uhh..." Dom loosened his tie and Brian almost wanted to tell him not to wreck the picture. "We had the memorial service for Jess today. "

"Oh, God. Shit. I'm sorry." He sighed. "I was going to tell you that you clean up real nice. I know it's not appropriate. But ... holy shit, you do. You look unbelievable, Dom."

He rubbed a hand over his head. They'd cut Dom's cast off the day before and given him a brace instead. That had definitely made him much happier. "I only had an old one. A few years ago... Had to buy a suit for Dad's funeral and for court. But it was kind of out of date, so, you know. Excuse to get something new. Kinda weird, but I like suits."

"It's amazing. Especially on you. I said I wanted to see you in some of those nice things in the closet." He swung around on the bed, pulling the sheets out of the way. "But I'm really sorry about the why. Did it go okay?"

Dom twitched his head. "Well as could be expected. They let his dad out on compassionate leave, but it was kind of weird having the guards there with him. Leon came back. Vince isn't strong enough yet. I said a few things, Mia did, too."

Brian didn't want to sound patronizing by telling him that he was sure Dom did well, so he just touched his shoulder briefly and Dom glanced up at him.

"I miss him. Never thought I'd say it, but I really miss him. And not just because of his way with an engine, either." He said that fiercely, as though he was expecting Brian to diminish his feelings somehow.

"I know."

"Mia thought that maybe when you and Vince are back on your feet, we could have a wake or something like that. The kind of send-off he'd want to have. Something less depressing."

"Sounds like a great idea."

Dom got up and took off the suit jacket, tossed it across the foot of the bed, and pushed the door closed. There was a sliver of a window in the door, so Dom pulled the curtain around the bed, just enough so that someone couldn't see in. He leaned over and kissed Brian hard, roping his fingers through Brian's hair. When he pulled away, Brian grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled Dom's head down, pressing his forehead to his.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you liked me. What was that for?"

Dom kissed him again, then stood back. "Just missed it. Been a long time, finally got a night where there aren't all those nurses coming in and out."

"Yeah. But still... risky, huh?"

"It's worth it." He looked toward the door. "You're too popular for your own good."

Brian grinned. "You're acting sort of grim, you know."

"Nah. Today, though... kind of makes you remember what's worth it, what isn't."

"Awww, thanks. I'm blushing."

Brian could tell Dom was really struggling not to laugh. He enjoyed doing that way too much. "Fuck you."

Yanking the covers up over his legs, Brian wiggled farther down into the bed. "Feel like climbing in?"

"That might be going a little too far."

"I knew that would freak you out." The way Brian grinned made Dom want to actually climb into the bed after all. It was the first time he'd really smiled like that in a very long time, the smile that felt like it had the whole world in it.

"I gotta get something to eat. You okay? Need anything?" Dom ran his fingers down Brian's arm.

"I'm good. I've advanced from Jell-O cups to an actual dinner resembling some kind of meat substance." He got serious then, his freaky blue eyes locked on Dom's. "They're letting me go tomorrow. Said I could stand on my own two feet now so I didn't need to have all the nurses fussing over me."

"Tomorrow. Really?" His stomach did a weird flip, leaving him shaky all of a sudden. All the decisions he'd been avoiding, the choices still left to make, were abruptly put in front of him.

"Thank God, is all I can say. I can kind of feel my legs atrophying." Brian made shooing motions. "Go grab some food. You know I'm not going anywhere."

Dom raised his eyebrows, nodded, and went in the direction of the cafeteria. The long drive out here every day in rush hour was wearing on him; he was always hungry, hot, and tired by the time he made it to the hospital. But now it looked like he wouldn't have to deal with it anymore.

The garage had been backed up with work when he'd finally returned to life as he'd known it. Mia was kind of wobbly for the first few days and hadn't gone into the store or to school. So, he'd felt compelled to stick around, see her through the worst of it. She refused to carry a gun or even a Taser, but eventually she'd mellowed enough that he had been able to go into the garage and get to work.

When they'd brought Vince home, Mia had made up a room on the ground floor for him, since he couldn't really be alone and his apartment was on the third floor of his building. It had been awkward and weird, Mia taking care of him like a nurse. Vince had not been the same person, not by a long fucking shot. More serious, less angry, and wrecked bad. Things hadn't improved much until Leon came down, minus, of course, Letty. She'd opted to stay in Bakersfield, as far away from Dom as she could get, and there'd been no discussion about it.

But Dom hadn't really told Brian too much about that shit. The last thing he wanted Brian to do was worry about stuff he couldn't change and wasn't responsible for, because he knew that if Brian was aware of it, he _would_ feel responsible. And then Brian would holler at him again over his guilt, give him the lecture about how Dom really was a good person, better than he knew. They'd come to a truce on that and agreed to stop talking about it, but his failures still ate at Dom whenever he was alone with his thoughts. Tanner's words kept running through his mind.

He paid for the crappy sandwich and the pop, waited for the interminable elevator. In some ways Dom almost wished he could just walk out now, leave before it got too complicated. He could go to Mexico liked he'd planned, lose himself in another place.

When he got back Brian was chatting with the nurse again. Even that first night in ICU Dom had recognized the interest level of every female on the floor; in the following days it had amused him to watch the way the some of them found excuses to look in on Brian. Not just because he was so gorgeous, but because he was so friendly and easygoing. People couldn't help being dazzled by him, just like Dom had been.

They talked about the service while Dom ate, avoiding the topic of Brian being able to go home soon. Dom found himself staring at Brian, who would glance at him and smile as if it meant nothing that the two of them were here, dealing with this. Finally Dom said, "I got the Charger back. Your buddy Tanner gave me the impound slip. Picked it up the other day."

"Whoa. That was above and beyond."

"Yeah. Especially considering he doesn't exactly like me."

"Well, give him a break, normally he'd arrest someone like you." Brian grinned. "Are you gonna fix it up?"

"When you get better, yeah. You can help me." He didn't know why he said that.

"I'd like that." They stared at each other for a while until Brian finally said, "We have to talk about it sometime. Might as well be now."

"What?"

"What's going to happen after I get out. How we do this, or don't do it."

Shifting uncomfortably, Dom looked up at the TV screen.

"Dom, I'm not expecting you to take me in like you did with Vince. I'm not even expecting you to look after me. I just don't know... what kind of contact we're going to have."

"Okay. Guess I hadn't thought about it much. Or wanted to think about it."

"Everything's different now."

"No kidding."

They were quiet again before Dom said, "There's a lot of fallout, loose ends I've tried to tie up. It'll be the same for you There are a lot of other things to think about, is what I mean."

"Yeah." Brian was obviously unhappy, but Dom didn't know what to say; he felt more than a little panicked at even having this conversation, despite expecting it for days.

"First we get you back on your feet, you know? Then we figure everything else out."

"Sounds like a plan." But Brian could tell that Dom was in full avoidance mode, the way his eyes shifted, his posture changed. He was afraid. All that time they'd been chasing after Mia, Brian thought he was afraid, but he wasn't, not really. This was what made him truly scared. And Brian couldn't say he didn't understand, because he felt the same way -- which was why he'd brought it up in the first place.

He had no idea what kind of relationship they would have after he got out. All the time he'd expected to be back to normal. That they'd somehow be able to put this in the past and go on as friends, even just fellow car fanatics. But he didn't know how, and the way Dom had kissed him earlier had pretty much convinced Brian that he couldn't be happy without him.

"There's something you're not telling me. Is it about Letty?"

"No. Like I said, she isn't back, might not be. Don't worry about it." He got up and kissed Brian roughly. "You worry way too much about shit you can't control."

"That's the pot calling the kettle black."

"Once more with feeling: fuck you." Dom gave him that goofy grin, the one that always left Brian feeling like he was a little kid.

"Oh, man, I wish you could." Brian smiled, even though he didn't feel much like it. He'd expected this conversational stuff to be awkward -- but maybe not this awkward. Hard to talk about the future when it felt so up in the air. "You coming back tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Because I could get someone from the station, or Tanner, to take me home."

"Not even close to being a problem. Don't sweat it." Dom ran a hand over his hair, then touched his shoulder. "Give me a call when it looks like you're ready to go, okay?"

"Will do." He touched Dom's forearm as he went past and watched him walk out the door. The sounds of the activity outside now flooded in to his room. He listened to it for a while, aware of the pain in his side, taking it all in. That was the best way to deal with pain, he'd been taught, just recognize it, let it happen, then steer your mind in other directions. It was safer in here in some ways. Outside this building his life would be forced to change, he would be forced into something he wasn't sure either he or Dom wanted. But there was no choice here anymore. What happened would happen, as Dom said, and no amount of worrying would change that.

 

 

When Dom got home, he was surprised to see Mia sitting at the dining table with Sergeant Tanner. Leon hovered around the edges, drinking coffee and looking edgy.

"What's going on?" he asked, not really feeling inclined toward greetings or polite small-talk.

"Hey, Dom," Mia said, getting up. "I'm the one who called the sergeant, so don't have a fit."

"Wasn't planning to. I just want to know why he's here. I assume it's not a social call."

"Not really," Tanner said, rubbing his fingers over his chin. "Your sister got a call from Tony Gregory. Well, actually, _you_ got a call, but she answered."

"Shit." He threw his jacket on the couch and undid his tie. "How the hell--"

"He's allowed calls. Apparently he wants you to visit him down at county." Tanner looked kind of funny. "You're not in the habit of taking advice from me, I realize that, but I do _not_ recommend making contact with the guy."

"He said that to you? He said he wanted to see me?" Dom asked Mia.

She nodded. "He told me that he just wanted to talk to you -- business, he said. No hard feelings, though he expected you to be pissed off. Dom, it was creepy." There was a lot of fear in her eyes even though she had her brave face on.

Dom looked at Tanner, his heart beating way too fast.

Tanner just kind of shrugged, but continued. "He still has a long reach, jail or not. We'll keep an eye on you, all of you. I can' t offer round-the-clock protection, but we'll do our best. The feds and LAPD have wanted him for too long, we're not going to let this whole thing unravel or let anything happen to the people who helped us get him."

"Wow, I'm so comforted."

Mia rolled her eyes. She didn't like it when she thought he behaved socially inappropriately. Over in the corner Leon made odd noises, like he was strangling on his drink.

Dom looked at all of them in turn, and said, "Look, if he wanted to take me out, or anyone else for that matter, he'd have done it weeks ago. Yeah, he's got a long reach, but if he'd wanted to use it, he would have."

Tanner thought about that for a little bit. All of that was true, but he wasn't sure he wanted Toretto to let down his guard or to think that meant things would work out all right. They had no idea just how long the Armenian was willing to wait it out; he might be fine with stringing them along, convincing them that business was business, and then wham! everyone was obliterated. But Toretto was not the kind of guy who took help, especially not from cops.

"Tell me you're not going to meet him."

"I can't get a read on him if I don't. Just what kind of a... mood he's in."

"Oh, spare me," Tanner said. The kid was just way too macho for his own good. "You're going to put everything at risk if you do that -- he'll use it to draw a bead on you, too. See what will make you vulnerable. He figured that out pretty fast before, you think he's not going to figure out a new way to make you suffer?"

Toretto stiffened. "Is Brian in danger, then?"

"What do you think?" Tanner glared. They watched each other for a few moments as Mia stormed off, muttering under her breath.

"I'll consider it," Dom said. "Look, I understand what you're saying. I'll weigh the options. But I know Tony, maybe not a lot, but enough, and one thing I know is that it might just be safer to do what he wants than to put him off. All that old-country bullshit, he's got weird codes and this crap he believes in about his own honor. "

Shaking his head, Tanner said, "I can't prohibit you from doing it, but... I really do not advise playing his game. He's already done that to you once."

"I want Mia to be safe."

"We will make sure that she is."

They stood there, silent, until Tanner finally gave up. Toretto knew how crafty Gregory was, how relentless, but they also had a history. And in his own way, Gregory probably did have a different level of... well, not respect, but maybe understanding of just what Toretto was willing to do, what he was capable of doing. The equation could be changed, but the last thing Tanner wanted to do was depend on that, considering how much was at stake. He particularly didn't want to think of Brian paying the price once again of being connected to this bush-league criminal.

So, he nodded and went for the door, Toretto following him. It was only then that Tanner noticed he was more polished-looking than usual. Mia had mentioned a service, but now Tanner made the connection. This was just so many ways of messed-up and ugly he couldn't even comprehend it all. One of their group a near-invalid; another dead and just buried; a third in the hospital with a gunshot wound. His sister was constantly anxious and not dealing with the trauma. And if he understood correctly, Toretto's girlfriend wasn't coming back to town even though the charges were dropped.

Would he have -- should he have -- done things differently with Brian if he'd realized just how far down the kid would get pulled, how dangerously this would play out? Looking at Toretto now, the anxiety on his face and the way he crossed his arms over his chest like he was protecting himself, he wasn't sure it could have happened any differently. As a cop, Brian had been bound by his duty; the problem was, duty had become something else for him and now he -- along with possibly a lot more people -- were going to suffer the consequences for doing that duty.

"At least do me the favor of talking to Brian about this. He has a lot to lose if Gregory decides revenge suits him better than letting it go. I don't think Gregory would go after your family again, and nothing we're doing hinges on your testimony. But he had more than a passing interest in Brian. I suppose he wouldn't be in as much danger if Gregory didn't think he could use him as leverage. That is, if you're planning to keep hanging around with Brian."

"You like to keep making that point, don't you?" Toretto said acidly.

"You keep giving me the chance."

When Tanner walked down the front steps, Toretto's eyes burned a hole in his back.

Mia watched them both from the other room, listening to their conversation drifting in through the window. As soon as Dom stopped worrying about what was happening to her, it ended up being all about Brian. Of course. She looked into the hall, saw Leon standing there looking as frustrated and bewildered as she felt herself. But he said nothing, because Leon rarely said anything that didn't need saying. It was all in the way he glanced at her, the way he cocked his head sideways, that told her she wasn't alone in thinking Dom was going off into the deep end again.

When Dom turned around to go upstairs, he paused and said to both of them, "I'm not gonna do anything stupid, I promise. But it might just be easier to talk to him than to let him sit around working up plans. Now that he knows Brian's a cop..." He didn't say anything more, just walked away in that infuriating manner she had never grown any more tolerant of. Mia and Leon stood there for a while, staring at each other, before Leon went into Vince's room, probably to fill him in on what had happened.

She'd largely kept her distance from Vince when she wasn't taking actual care of him. Discussions about Brian were the last thing she wanted to get into, and she didn't want to explain what had happened to everyone because of Brian's decisions. Mia knew Vince was grateful, but she wasn't sure just how far tolerance based on gratitude would extend considering how much Vince had hated Brian before. She had no feelings for Brian anymore, not after everything that had transpired, but that didn't mean she wanted to encourage Vince.

After a few minutes, Dom came downstairs, grabbed his car keys, and nodded at her. "I gotta go out."

"Where the hell are you going? You are not going to the jail, I hope."

"No. Just need to get some air."

"Jesus, Dom, what is wrong with you? The guy who _kidnapped_ me and tried to _kill_ you and Brian, he calls us and you just... what? Do what he tells you? Let him work on you so you put us in danger again? How stupid are you?"

"That's not what's gonna happen. I need to think about this. I know what's going on, more than you might understand, and I need to figure this out myself."

All of this was like a replay of the days after their dad had died, the two of them fighting, tearing each other apart because Dom just shut down, wouldn't talk, and then took out his grief in crazed violence. He said he listened to her and valued her opinion, but in these situations he never did. Just went blindly on like a mad bull.

In a choked voice, she said, "You're not in charge of my life. I don't give you that permission to fuck with it anymore. And I don't think anyone else does, either. You can't keep playing God."

For a moment he almost looked like he would cry. Jesus, she hated this: how much he felt, how intensely he loved her and yet never seemed to understand how to do the right thing. Mia wanted to go to him, tell him that it would be okay, but that he should listen to people like Tanner, listen to _her_ for once in their miserable lives. But she was too angry. Warring tempers, that was the two of them. It seemed like sometimes they couldn't have a disagreement or misunderstanding without it being like pouring gas on a fire.

"Just go, Dom. Just go." _Don't deal with the emotional fallout, like you always don't deal,_ she thought _._

"I won't let anyone hurt you. You, Brian, Vince... I promise you that."

She shrugged and turned her back, muttering "Like you have any control." As he walked down the stairs, she watched him out the window, hugging her arms around her body. Could he be going back to see Brian, then? Maybe he would talk some sense into Dom's thick head. The thing that scared her most was the idea of him looking for a race, a fight, something dangerous and macho and full of testosterone, just to work it out of his system. After all the trouble he went through to clean his record... but he could be just that obstinately stupid when he wanted to be.

Only it seemed now as if everything came down to Brian. Mia wondered just how much this thing with Gregory was about his family now, and how much was about protecting Brian. She and Dom had always been unusually close for brother and sister, she knew that. For quite some time in their childhood, when their father had retreated to a safe, distant place emotionally far away from them, they had only had each other and had grown tighter than most siblings with their age differences. Mia knew Dom valued that closeness as much as she did. She knew he would die for her; that he loved her above everything else. But there were parts of him she was acutely aware that she never saw -- parts he didn't allow anyone to see, even Letty.

Her brother had the biggest heart of anyone she'd ever known. He was generous and loving to a fault, and once he loved you, he loved you fiercely, protectively. But Mia had never seen Dom _in_ love -- that kind of "can't live without you, forever and ever love," as if that was too much emotion even for him. He'd settled into his relationship with Letty in much the same way he'd settled in to all his other relationships, no big romantic gestures or over the top displays of feelings. That kind of thing simply wasn't Dom.

Now, though, it made sense. More than anything, Dom was afraid for Brian. Because he was a cop, because he'd already been shot, because he'd saved their lives... whatever the reason, Brian was his biggest fear. With a sick kind of understanding, Mia finally saw through what had been opaque before: Dom didn't just love Brian, the way he loved her or Jesse or Letty or anyone else... He was _in_ love with Brian.

 

 

The city always looked a lot nicer from up in the hills, Dom thought, especially at night. You could almost believe it was pretty. He leaned against the hood of his car, wishing he'd developed some kind of habit like smoking, something that would give him small actions to focus on. Take his mind away from all the crap weighing on it.

Tanner was right, it was stupid to play into Tony's game. But being right didn't mean shit in this situation. For Tony it was all about connections -- he really did believe in that "keep your friends close, but your enemies closer" garbage, and being able to size each other up in person would help him decide what to do. If he felt Dom wasn't a threat anymore, then he'd treat it like a joke. The important thing was to make sure Tony knew he wasn't a threat -- and neither was Brian. It was the feds and the cops who were the threat, and Dom had just been their pawn. Anyone with the potential to do him some good later, Tony kept around; it was the ones he didn't think could be useful he disposed of. If Dom didn't show up to talk, Tony would believe he wasn't willing to be of service.

It was crucial to know where they fell in Tony's world now. Dom needed to see it in Tony's eyes. It didn't matter to Dom if Tony killed him as retribution. His affairs were in order; will, insurance, everything set up so Mia and the others would be taken care of. But the last thing he wanted was for something to happen to Brian.

Tanner was also painfully right about Dom being bad for Brian. Although Tanner had no idea how far things had gone, just what kind of "connection," as he'd called it, they had, it was clear that he got this whole thing on a fundamental level. The guy knew a hell of a lot about the world, and he knew just what kind of life lay ahead for Brian if Dom stuck around. He'd called it accurately each step along the way: every warning, every criticism to Brian about Dominic Toretto had played out exactly as he'd said. Brian wore the white hat, Dom the black. You couldn't really argue with that.

This was what you did in life, wasn't it? Small sacrifices, duly made. Payments rendered. Nothing good came for free. He looked down at the city, wondering how many people faced life-changing decisions, stood to lose something they really wanted or decided the fates of someone they loved. Millions of lives and millions of bad things happening, but somehow you always felt like you were the one who suffered the worst.

He'd done something that required a pretty big payback. Some of it had been paid out, some still left to be settled. But in the end, a deal was always a deal.

 

 

Brian slowly put the stuff he'd collected into a bag that the nurse had rustled up. He figured he might as well take everything that had accumulated in the hospital, since it would be a while before he was strong enough to do something like go to the store. Dom had brought him some clothes a few days ago, since what he'd come here in was pretty much useless except for the sneakers. Bullets will do that to a good T-shirt.

Every turn or movement he made, every up or down, was performed as gingerly and slowly as the first days, but he was still able to move a hell of a lot faster than the hospital staff with their discharge papers.

Eladio, the nurse who'd been flirting with him the past few days, came in to check up on him. "Sorry," he said, handing him his effects, "they're still doing the paperwork. It's really the longest thing you'll ever live through, trust me. Your friend here yet?" Most of the staff had stopped by over the past few days to tell him how much they were going to miss him, that he'd been their best patient in a long time. Every time someone had said that, Dom had snickered or glared hostilely, depending on his mood.

"Soon."

"He doesn't have to hurry, that's for sure. I've never understood why it takes longer to send a patient home than it does for intake." Eladio, like a lot of them, had also done more than his fair share of ogling Dom even though Dom wouldn't admit it. Admitting it wouldn't give him as big an opportunity to give Brian shit for the attention.

"Well, it's not like I'm in a big rush. I suppose you're going to make me leave in a wheelchair."

"Sorry again." Eladio shrugged. "It's not that bad. Everyone always thinks it's undignified, but believe me, by the time you've waited for the elevator, you'll be glad you're not trying to stand. You don't just get over a GSW like that, you know," he said, snapping his fingers. "You got a looong way to go."

Brian was lucky, because a guy he knew from the precinct gym who did personal training would be coming by for a few weeks to help get him back into the swing of things. He still felt shaky and he tired easily; the timetable of getting over a GSW, he was more than acutely aware of, did not happen just like that.

"We're gonna miss you." He patted Brian's shoulder. "I'll be back with the discharge stuff in... oh, ten years or so."

"I'll be here." Brian grinned at him. Everyone in this place had been great to him, and though he was anxious to go home, he would miss their thoughtfulness and maybe even the flirting -- just a bit.

He dressed slowly, put his watch back on, checked his wallet -- everything was still there. Merely putting his jeans on was a huge task; his lack of speed was almost comical. Brian lay back in the bed, tired out from the effort, listening to the drone of the TV. Within a few minutes, Dom appeared.

He hovered at the door, like coming in would be too much of an imposition. So, Brian thought, this is it. With unwavering certainty he knew what Dom planned to say to him now, but he didn't want to hear it. "You can come in, you know. It'll be a while before they finish the paperwork. They said it takes forever." Tanner had told him about the call from Gregory, about Dom's desire to talk to the creep as a possible method to keep Brian safe. Even though Tanner didn't like Dom much, he'd had the decency to let Brian know, hoping that he could talk sense into him. And in his own weird Tanner way to let him know that Dom was worried that much.

"Brian..."

"Okay, Dom. It's okay. I know what you're going to say."

"No, you don't."

"Yeah, I do. You want to cut it off, here and now." He'd been expecting it for so long, yet he'd held on to that crazy hope after what Tanner had told him, believing that maybe things could be different. That maybe Dom had made a decision to put someone else first.

That deep voice was scarily quiet. "I just... Brian, I can't do this." He entered the room to stand by the bed, his hand on the edge of the bed but nowhere near Brian. Dom's face was contorted with worry and regret. Good, Brian thought. He should feel at least a little bit of pain for this.

"I'll call Tanner or someone to come get me." Brian looked away this time, hyper-aware of everything in the room: the air conditioner's whir, the cars passing by below the window, the squeak of the cleaning cart wheels rolling through the hallway. The light seemed brighter, rawer.

"I'm sorry... I should have called so you didn't have to wait, but I wanted to see you."

" 'Cause, what? That would make it better? Cleaner? We both knew it was coming."

"No." Dom's voice was stronger now, emphatic. "No, we didn't. But I can't do this, live this way. Knowing everyone was looking at us, seeing us like... like that. I'm sorry. Whatever it takes, I don't have it."

"It's okay. I don't think I do, either, not really." He closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillow. "But maybe you should go now." He felt Dom's fingers on his, just for one heartsick moment, but he would not open his eyes. Couldn't let Dom see how wrecked he was -- or maybe how weak he was.

Stupid of him to think that maybe there was a shot. They were too different, they led lives that wouldn't allow for any kind of relationship like they'd built. It had been stupid, almost romantic of him to think it would have worked out.

Brian felt Dom leave the room without actually seeing him; his presence and scent dissipating in the air. The finality of it was almost worse than getting shot. Like his guts had been pulled right out of him abruptly, violently. Knowing it was going to happen didn't make it any easier to accept.

Brian sucked in a ragged breath and picked up the phone.

 


	8. Salvation

> **Some guys they just give up living  
>  And start dying little by little, piece by piece  
>  Some guys come home from work and wash up  
>  And go racin' in the street**

 

Brian hauled himself out of bed, shuffling to the kitchen to flip the switch for the coffee pot before making for the shower. Some days it took more strength than he believed he had just to walk from room to room. He spent more time showering because of the wound, still dealing with the bandage and the cleaning. They'd told him to keep it moist, but not too moist, so he wouldn't have such a bad scar, but Brian had stopped caring about that after a few days. He hated the detail crap, so he'd been ridiculously happy the day they told him it was okay to shower and he wasn't going to gripe about the grunt work. It was good to make progress, even if that progress wasn't exactly gigantic.

After he'd showered, Brian poured some coffee and opened the curtains, staring out at the back yard. The landlord kept a nice garden. When Brian was on late shift, he'd often find himself watching the sun go down just before heading into work, wondering what Dom was seeing in his part of the world, whether they watched the same sun or moon. Wondered, too, if Dom ever thought of him and remembered sitting out on the back porch, looking at the sky and their city of stars.

Hard to believe how much time had passed since they'd looked at the same sky. Though Brian was back in his world, a new home at the precinct even if it was just a desk job, he didn't always feel a part of it anymore. There was something missing inside, a piece still left behind in Dom's house, and time wasn't making him feel any closer to whole.

They had put Brian on a desk job after a perfunctory hearing that Tanner had clearly done some campaigning for. Everyone believed that letting Dom go had been part of the overall plan, so they shunted Brian off to a different precinct, not really a punishment so much as a way to ignore him till he was better and returned to being useful. The place had not been especially welcoming, but he had found a few people who weren't completely Arctic. The story had gotten out, as usual in fragments that sometimes bore a faint resemblance to reality and other times were nearly fictional, but that was the nature of cop talk. You stuck together for each other most times, but there was always someone who had to take the fall for the stuff that went bad.

Once, Brian had been filing reports and heard one of the few guys who was nice to him, Dan, talking to the duty sergeant, who made it clear that he would never be happy with Brian's presence. The sergeant had made a crack about letting a petty criminal ex-con go, saying that it proved what kind of a cop Brian was if he was willing to do that. It was quiet for a time as Brian had just waited, wondering whether Dan was nodding at the sergeant's wisdom, and then Dan said, "You know how the kid got that gunshot wound? Taking down the Armenian and trying to get the petty criminal's sister back from a kidnapping. I bet whoever told you about it left that part of the story off, though."

There'd been more silence, then the sergeant had said sourly, "I didn't know that."

"He's good police. A couple of youthful mistakes on your first undercover doesn't change that. You might want to consider cutting him some slack."

Things hadn't exactly warmed up after that, but Brian had definitely been given a little more space. All these years alone, though, hadn't prepared him for feeling quite _this_ alone. There were no friends or acquaintances at work to talk to, not really, not the way there had been in his rookie days; there was no one at home; and he couldn't do most of the things he used to enjoy like surfing or racing. He'd told Dom once that his life had seemed decent until he'd met the Torettos, but all that had done was point up just how bad it felt to really be on your own, the way he was now. The only company he kept was David, the personal trainer who was helping him get back to normal. They had a few hours together every other day, something Brian had found himself looking forward to more than he could have expected.

After work he went to the gym, connecting with David in the weight room to work through their routine. David always kept up a steady stream of low-level chatter, offering encouragements amid the general talk. He was fascinated by Brian's police work, every bit as much as Brian was fascinated by David's studies for a degree in sports medicine. But he was unhappy that Brian wasn't making the kind of progress David thought he should be -- and this was turning out to be one of those days when there was a "you have to want to get better to get better" lecture attached to all the help. By the time they hit the Jacuzzi, David was watching him with purse-lipped irritation. Brian tried to ignore him until he finally cracked and asked, "What?" with more than a little exasperation.

"You're wimping out on me, is all." He pushed his long dreads back off his sweaty forehead. Sometimes the color of David's skin reminded Brian way too much of Dom's.

Spreading his hands wide, Brian said, "I just have pain." Some days, his side hurt enough to shock him into remembering everything that happened; by favoring it, though, other parts of his body were taking a hit.

"Mm-hm." David slid next to him, pressing his hand flat against Brian's rib cage.

Brian edged away. "Hey." Which was stupid, because it wasn't like anyone would think they were a couple of faggots frolicking in the hot tub, but it still freaked him out.

"Oh, spare me. I'm trying to get a sense of where you're tight. And I don't mean in that way. I got more dates than I can handle and you're so not my type."

Brian stared at him.

"Don't even try to tell me that you didn't know."

"I... I never thought about it. Before. I mean."

David raised an eyebrow and gave him a look. Brian had named that his "Oh, please" look, because every time he thought Brian made excuses for poor performance, he gave him that face.

"No, really, I never did. I don't... worry about shit like that anymore."

David moved to the other side of the tub, stretching his arms out and leaning back. "Anymore?"

Even with as much time as they'd spent together, Brian still had a hard time completely trusting David. Of course, that made no real sense -- within the same amount of time, Brian had had no trouble putting his faith in Dom despite knowing his history. You didn't have to be a genius to realize that had changed him, made him more mistrustful. Trust and belief had come to mean survival for both him and Dom at the time, but it was too fragile and easily destroyed.

Maybe now was the time to put the bad shit to rest, learn how to open up again. "I used to think that... I mean, it wasn't like I thought about other guys, or fa-- gay guys, or anything. I didn't much care one way or another what people did. But things changed this summer. I met someone who made me sort of... rethink everything."

"Everything being what?"

"Like, how people are wired. Who you find attractive."

David laughed loudly, and not entirely without cruelty. "What you really mean is who you fuck."

 _Okay, that, too._ Brian ducked his head in embarrassment. "I guess so."

David looked at him skeptically. "You're actually telling me that a few months ago, you were boinking a guy."

"Well, yeah. Among other things. It's a long story, but that's how I got this." He put his hand over his side.

"He's the one who _shot_ you?" David nearly shouted.

"No, no. It was on a job... Look, really, it's a long story with a crappy ending." David only stared at him. Brian gave in and started on the whole thing, trying to keep his tale unemotional. That didn't work for long. By the time they got out of the Jacuzzi, showered and changed, he had finished. At the juice bar -- David forced him to drink grassy-tasting things every chance he got, though if left to his own devices Brian always chose the fruity drinks -- he waited for David to say something, anything. All he got was a lot of throat-clearing.

After a while he focused on Brian and asked, "So, let me see if I got this right. You're all worried now that you're queer because you had this torrid affair with some crazy-ass hot-rod criminal."

"Not worried, no. I figure that horse is pretty much out of the barn."

David snorted. "Trust me when I say you are not exactly going to get a big party welcoming you into the sisterhood. Lots of guys have experimented. Way more than will ever admit it. Don't always mean what you think it means."

"Yeah, I'm a lot less surprised by that these days. But I don't think many people are still gonna be down with that excuse."

"That's not the trouble. The people's reaction card is a big one to play, but in your case, that's not it. The big trouble here is you're not over him. And you believe he's over you."

Brian shrugged and finished off his juice. While it was nice being able to talk about this at last to someone who wasn't going to pass judgment on him, it was also draining and he was feeling the familiar hitch in his side that he got when he overworked. The tension of reliving so much emotional shit was as much work as his routine.

David patted his shoulder in a very guy-like way. "You're so dim sometimes I can hardly believe you managed to make it to adulthood."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Think about it. You said earlier that it would have been hard to be with a guy in your line of work, but you were willing to risk it. You think he was more scared than you were? Like he wasn't going to lose just as much? Uh-uh. Whatever he's doing, it's because of something else." He made a helpless gesture with his hand. "Look. You decide this is who you are and it's not a passing fancy, let me know. Because I could take you some places you might not get out of alive." He cocked a finger at Brian. "I'll see you Friday, okay?"

Brian nodded. It hadn't occurred to him that spilling his guts would result in such a response. He didn't know exactly _what_ he was expecting, but it wasn't having his own stupidity pointed out to him. On the other hand, he wasn't so sure David wasn't right: that something besides fear of being called a faggot was behind Dominic walking away.

Still, it didn't matter. It was all in the past. Maybe now that he'd gotten it off his chest, he could do a better job of moving on, of getting his shit together. Life was lonelier now, but it wasn't something he couldn't deal with. Like he'd told Dom once before: you suck it up and get on with it. Sitting around thinking about how things could have been didn't make them happen.

 

Even after weeks of 12-hour days with barely any weekend time off, Dom still hadn't caught up on the backlog of work that had awaited him once he'd gotten Mia home. Yet as exhausted as he was, keeping his mind occupied made him grateful for the work. He'd never been one to dwell in the past, but it was all too easy to find himself recalling those few weeks together with Brian, running through all the could haves, would haves, and should haves.

Though Dom had confidence that he'd done the right thing -- and in his limited contact with Tony, he knew he had -- it still left him with more pain than he'd known for a very long time.

Eventually Vince had moved back to his own place, though it took him a lot longer to get back to work. More often than not he hung out at Dom's garage, helping the best he could, but he was unfocused and tired easily. Where he used to be hungover and lazy most of the time, now Vince was... well, just different. Dom could never put his finger on it: if you asked him, sometimes he might say it was sad, other times Dom might say it was kind of accepting, as if Vince's old anger didn't fuel him anymore. He had more control of his temper and seemed to have an attitude that said, "Don't sweat the small stuff." Though it was an improvement, sometimes Dom felt that Vince was so different, that _he_ was so different, they couldn't be the same kind of friends anymore.

Late in the afternoon, he heard the familiar rumble of Vince's car coming up the back alley, wiped off the grease from his hands, and pulled a couple beers out of the fridge. That was another thing that had changed -- Vince stuck to a few bottles a day, rarely going after the harder stuff anymore. Still limping, but less so all the time, Vince went to PT every other day and usually brought Dom a full report of the hottie therapist he was hitting on. Dom had come to think Vince was yanking her chain by exaggerating his damage, but his stories were one of the few things that made him laugh these days.

They inched down the wall with their backs against the cool concrete, Dom resting his head back and closing his eyes against the low afternoon sun. Most of the time he had little to talk about besides work. No parties, no racing, no anything to speak of, really.

Vince was quieter than usual this time, until he finally cleared his throat. "How long before you think things'll be back to normal? I been wondering that lately."

Dom just shrugged in response.

"Maybe there is no normal again." Vince took a drink.

"That'd sum it up."

"So, then, you're gonna be moping for fucking ever," Vince said lightly, looking up at the cloudless late-fall L.A. sky.

"I'm not moping." Dom sounded way whinier than he wanted to.

"What do you call it, then?"

"Just busy, is all." Dom took a pull from his beer. That was another thing about Vince that freaked him out -- he was willing to challenge Dom on stuff he'd never have done before. His head seemed to be wired differently; they'd warned everyone that going into shock had done a number on his brain, and there were a lot more times that Vince forgot what he was doing, or appeared to not connect words to things as well as before -- and Vince had never exactly been Einstein.

"Uh huh." Vince rolled his bottle around in a circle. "It's because of him, isn't it?"

"Him, who?" Dom knew the dumb act wasn't going to work, but he figured he had to try it, anyway.

"Don't fuck with me. Brian. Look, I didn't like the guy, yeah. And I was right about him being a cop. But he saved my life. I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for him. You and me both know he got under your skin pretty damn fast. Shit, everyone knew that."

Dom opened his eyes and glared.

"Yeah, whatever. Didn't mean anything. Blah fuckin' blah." Vince scowled. "It ain't like I want to talk about this and it ain't like I think him being on the team was a good idea in the first place. But everything's different now. If having him around made you happy, then maybe you should keep him around, you know? 'Cause you're not exactly a lot of fun right now."

"You make it sound like..." What was Dom going to say -- like Brian was his boyfriend? He decided to just drink his beer and not dig himself in any deeper.

"Hey, you remember Marie McConnell?" Vince asked.

That was like getting conversational whiplash. "Uh, yeah. What the fuck has she got to do with anything?" Vince had been totally out of his league with that girl; she was way past his brain power and actually had social skills. But she'd been into that whole hard-drinking, street-racing, low-life bad-boy thing. And like most of those relationships, it had ended fast and hard.

"Man, she really loved that poetry shit. Used to go on and on, she'd even read me poems in bed. Always gave me these cards with fancy writing. She said something, I think it was from one of those things, that I never really forgot. Most of the rest of her yammering, I forgot. The sex, though, that is not something I will ever forget."

Shaking his head, Dom asked with slow, annoyed words that he practically spat out, "What was the thing she said?"

"Oh, yeah. Something about how everyone's looking for one true thing in the world. We're looking for it our whole life, and sometimes we're lucky and we know it when we see it."

"Yeah, ookaay."

Dom stood and offered him a hand up, but Vince didn't want to take it. He was tired of this, wanting Dom to at least listen to what he had to say, but the talking didn't seem to be going anywhere but down. Vince was still in a lot of pain, still having trouble finding his feet sometimes, but he was sick of getting help from people, especially Dominic in the mood he was always in. Still, Vince took the hand, staring at Dom as he stood, almost willing him to say something. In the past he would never, ever have brought crap like this up to Dom. Things were different now -- it was the thought he repeated over and over, just to keep himself going. As Dom turned to walk back to the garage, Vince whacked him on the shoulder. He spun around, pissed off and looking like he wanted to fight. Vince didn't even care if Dom took a shot at him. It was time to put this out in the open.

"I'm trying to say. She was full of crap with that soul-mate shit, but I always thought maybe she was also kind of right. Me, I figure my one true thing is your sister, even though she don't agree. Maybe your thing is this family you made. Maybe your thing is having Brian in it."

Dom spread his hands out. "I expect this kind of bullshit from Mia, not from you."

With a glare, Vince said, "Look, whatever was going on with you and him, that's your business. But when he was around you acted like you were a human being. You hadn't been like that since fuckin' Lompoc, man." Vince was almost shouting now, feeling very much like his old self for the first time in a long, long while. "You seemed like you were back in the game. The only thing that made you grin was racing or popping trucks, Dominic, until White Bread came along. It's fuckin' weird and I don't want to think about what it means, I _really_ don't want to think about it, but... Jesus Christ, if him being around makes you happier, then bring him back. Because this King of Pain bullshit and being all depressed is fucking tiresome. Get back in the game and do something about it."

Dom waved his hand at him and turned away. Fucking typical.

"No, man, I mean it. I mean it, Dominic. You're on another planet these days. You been that way since you bounced the kid out of the way; that's what both Mia and Leon say. It ain't about grieving for Jess, either. You're... you're grieving for _him_ , Dom. I know it, they know it, you know it."

"So, you're telling me that I should, what? Go chase after Brian and bring him back? Because he's my best friend forever?" One of the things he had always liked about Dom was his sarcasm, but right now, it just made Vince want to clock him.

Vince grinned, kept grinning until he laughed and clapped Dom on the back. "Whatever, brother. Whatever would make you stop acting like someone killed your puppy. It's fucking annoying."

Dom shook his head, staring up at the sky. Probably figured it was like he'd just stepped into Bizarro World, but fuck it -- if it shocked Dom into doing something, it was worth looking like a pussy. He got quiet, crossing his arms over his chest, staring Dom down.

"You know I'm right. Everyone thinks I'm the same guy who jumped off a car that day, but I ain't. I got a different outlook on things. About how short and lonely and fucked-up life is, and you gotta take what you can get. Find your one true thing, you know? If it's these people, including the boy, then you need to take the chance, man."

That actually _did_ make Dom laugh. "Jesus, Vince, you gotta be kidding me. There's no such bullshit as one true thing that's gonna make your life right and every day is wonderful."

"I didn't believe stuff like that too much before. But I do now." Vince wasn't so good with the words, didn't know how to tell Dom that everything just _felt_ more important now, but he supposed he'd lost this game. They just stood there a while, watching each other. The best Vince could hope for was a draw.

Dom half turned away and sighed. He couldn't argue with that shit, not really. Vince had been down a harder road than anyone else; he battled nightmares about that day, struggled with chronic pain and the knowledge that he'd never be the person he used to be physically -- not to mention emotionally. But Dom still couldn't wrap his brain around the idea of Vince actually encouraging him to bring Brian back into their lives, to admit that it was that important for him.

"Since when did you get to be advice guy?"

"Since I nearly got my arm cut off and got shot and almost lost my leg. Plus there was that thing about almost dying."

Dom twisted his mouth up, trying not to let Vince see him smile, and went back into the garage. "You're so full of shit."

Vince tossed the bottle in the recycling bin. "Yeah. But I'm full of the right shit."

When he heard the sound of Vince's engine turning over, Dom turned to watch him drive away.

What the hell. Maybe he was right. Everything was completely upside down since Brian had first come into their lives. Maybe that was the way they were supposed to be.

 

Brian got out of bed and shuffled out to the kitchen. Even though it was his weekend, he still tried to get up at a decent time, just because his internal clock was already so off from the swing-shift hours he kept. Stretching a little while he waited for the coffee to finish brewing, he put his hand to his side, feeling the familiar ache and burn. David had told him it should be better by now, giving him that look, but Brian still fought the pain, especially in the mornings. Sleep was too hard to come by, and all the tossing and turning did his body no favors.

They weren't nightmares, precisely, just that he kept replaying the gunshot in his head like a tape on an endless loop he couldn't turn off. Once in a while he got a break and had nightmares about shooting Johnny Tran. As long as he had something to occupy himself during the day, he didn't think about it, but at night, alone, the shock of so much violence came back, reminders of the steps he hadn't taken and the knowledge and experience he'd ignored. There were thoughts of Dom, of being alone... all there festering in the back of his mind, too. Some nights he had to rely on his dwindling supply of Atavan just to unclench and relax enough to fall asleep, but then he'd wake up at three or four or five anyway, never really getting back to sleep. If Brian whined to the doctor for more pills he'd sound like some pathetic addict. The occasional painkillers helped when he overdid it, but for the most part he tried to rely on himself to get better. Only, he appeared to be doing a really lame job.

After some coffee, Brian hit the shower. He had no plans for the day, just a trip to the store for more David-approved food. No gym, no training, just lying around and wallowing. As he toweled off his hair, he heard a knock at the door.

The only person Brian could even figure would show up here was Tanner, so he opened it without checking the peephole to find Dom standing there. As stupid as it was, Brian's first instinct was to shut the door in his face like some wounded teenage girl. Instead he leaned into the edge of the door. "Dom. What are you doing here?"

There was a look on Dom's face Brian couldn't identify; his features were twisted up, mouth drawn in a tight line. Yet he looked good, all the marks of the accident completely gone. He was obviously tired and worn out, which made Brian feel weirdly sorry for him.

"Can I come in?" Dom asked.

Brian hesitated, and in that break, Dom reached out to put his palm flat against Brian's chest, shoving him inside against the wall. He brought his mouth fiercely to Brian's, digging fingers into his shoulders and pushing against him. Reaching out with his foot, Brian knocked the door closed, grabbing fistfuls of Dom's T-shirt. He almost wondered if he was dreaming again of the past, feeling those muscles underneath his fingers again, the familiar scent of Dom's skin and the taste of his mouth. It was like he was made of water, liquid and weightless.

Dom pulled away, pressing his hand on the wall next to Brian's head, his mouth red from kissing, lips gleaming wet. He fixed Brian with a defiant look. "Forgive me?"

"For what?" Brian asked. "Nothing to forgive."

"Leaving. Lying. Everything." Dom kissed him again, the two of them sliding down the wall as they pawed at each other, to end up in a heap of legs and arms on the floor.

"Bullshit," Brian said emphatically. "I get why you did it."

"No, you don't." Dom ran his thumb over Brian's lip, swept by those blue eyes into something he'd forgotten he could feel. Vince was right, this was what made him happy, just Brian, just looking at him.

"Well, then explain it for the audience." Except that he kissed Dom for a good long time, so the words got lost behind that.

After a while Dom pushed Brian back. "Tony called. When you were in the hospital. He talked to Mia."

Brian sat on his heels, looking at Dom skeptically. "He threatened you through her again?"

"Not exactly. But... he made it clear that we could play the game his way, or my way. I chose his way." He paused, watching Brian's reaction, hoping he would understand. "Had to make sure he couldn't hurt the people I cared for."

"And here I thought you were just scared about having to put a rainbow bumper sticker on your car."

"That was my moronic plan."

"Not so moronic after all. It worked."

Dom pulled Brian on top of him. "I'm sorry."

Brian scowled, despite the places Dom was putting his hands. "You do this thing where you make decisions for people. Maybe you ought to rethink that." He stuck his tongue in Dom's ear, sending a giant jolt through him, then bit his earlobe. "You could have told me what happened."

"Mia already beat you to that. She's been bitching me out pretty steadily since I got her back."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore." He stood and offered Dom a hand up. "At least not right now."

Dom allowed Brian to haul him into the bedroom and do things to him he'd begun to believe he'd never experience again. He'd come here with an idea that it would be all fists in the face and swearing and that eventually he'd get booted out the door, so this reception was as confusing as it was incredible.

He was wiped out afterward, sticky with sweat and semen, yet Brian seemed to have just woken up, grinning like an idiot. Dom ran his hand languidly over Brian's arm as he sat there smiling down at him, sheets pooled around his hips. The scar of his wound was so vivid it made Dom's stomach clench; he wasn't fully healed even with these long months in between. "So, if you were doing this to save me from Gregory, then what wrecked your plan? Did you sell your soul to him?"

"Nah. He might be in prison but he's living pretty large. I squared it with him. Sort of."

"Uh huh. Sure you did. At some point I'm gonna find out what the deal is." He sighed. "Why show up now?

"Vince."

" _Vince_? You have got to be shitting me." Brian shoved his foot against Dom's thigh, hard.

Dom shook his head and slapped Brian's leg away. "Vince. Apparently he's sick of me. Like everyone else. He started going on about poetry. I had to come here to shut him up."

"Let's just pause for a minute to reflect on the sheer unreality of everything you're telling me."

With a shrug, Dom said, "I know. But he's got this idea that having you around made me happier than since before I was inside. I don't think he really understands what he's saying, or what having you around means. Shit, if he did, he'd run away screaming. But on some level, maybe he gets that you can't pick what makes you happy."

"Look, not that I think you're lying or anything, but... you gotta admit, even just the fact Vince would say anything like that is weird enough, but the guy _hates_ me."

"He's different, Brian. I didn't expect it, either. What happened really freaked him out." Reaching over, Dom ran his hand down Brian's side, watching his skin goosebump along the way. "And there was that jumping on a moving semi to save his life stuff. Vince may be a lot of things, but he ain't ungrateful."

"So, he, what... thinks I should be on your team?"

"Don't really have a team anymore. But yeah. Maybe he thinks this'll get it going again. Talked a lot about family."

Brian spread his body over Dom's, biting his earlobe again. This was apparently becoming a thing with him. "Will it?"

"I don't know. Persuade me."

"Uh-uh. First I want to know what's going on. What you're doing, what's happened." Dom got the impression Brian wasn't saying something else along with that, something he wanted to know.

"You wondering if everything was great and I forgot about you in the meantime?"

"Nah. You wouldn't be here if it was." Brian smiled. "Just... Guess I wanted to know that everything was worth it. Mia's okay, and all."

"Yeah. Things are pretty much how you heard the last time." That all-too familiar flush of shame heated his skin, so he threw his arm around Brian to give him a tight squeeze. Brian seemed to get that he was apologizing once more and pinched him, hard. "Ow. Fucker."

"Look. We gotta set some ground rules, unless you're not really planning to stick around any longer. If you are, stop talking about the past. What's done is done. Just promise that in the future, if you've got dastardly plans, you tell me about them. Don't be making decisions for me."

Dom twisted his fingers in Brian's hair, which had gotten really long. Surprising that the department didn't make him cut it. "You got it." But he still didn't understand why Brian had forgiven him so easily. Dom wasn't the kind to hold a grudge that long -- that had always been Vince's department -- but he'd expected something much worse from Brian. Maybe there was another shoe going to drop at some point.

As Brian rolled over onto his back, Dom put his hand on the scar. "You? I haven't stopped thinking about this. Hoping you were all right."

"It's... there's still pain, but it's not like it's not manageable. Sometimes I get tired faster than I want to. I got a personal trainer, though, who's studying to be a sports medicine guy. He helps."

"What aren't you telling me?"

"Nothing. It's getting better. Not much to tell."

But Dom knew there was something heavier he wasn't talking about; he could see it behind Brian's eyes, hear it in the grating edge of his voice. "Tanner? Your job?"

"He's good. Put a spin on everything once it was over. I got stuck in a precinct near the airport. Desk duty still, but once I get back on my feet totally... It was the best I could expect, really, after everything."

"Didn't matter that you brought in the Armenian himself? Think they'd be giving you half-naked chicks to peel you some grapes."

"Not to some people. No grapes." Brian shrugged and looked away.

"Hey," Dom said, gripping his shoulder tight. "What is it?"

"Nothing, man. Just... it's been a weird couple a months, you know?"

"Got that right."

Slipping out of bed, Brian said quietly, "I need more coffee. You want anything?" He yanked his jeans on and went to the kitchen. Clearly the guy was backing away from something, but Dom was fucked if he could figure out what.

It took Brian a minute to realize that he hadn't even waited for Dom to answer, so he poured him some coffee anyway, then sat on the bed. He would have to adjust to having someone around again. The situation felt so surreal, Dom here in Brian's bed, arm up under his head, all those muscle arcs and curves for his viewing pleasure alone. Yet he was unsure how much he was willing to give out about his problems in spite of how comfortable it felt.

"How's business?"

"Ah, I'm so backed up it ain't funny. I just get through it as fast as I can, but without Jess..." They both stared down at their cups when he said that. "Damn. You make really good coffee."

"I know. Everyone in the station knows, too, now. They freaking wait for me to come on shift to make new coffee. Lazy-asses."

Dom laughed at him, that nearly silent chuckle Brian had seen so rarely. Maybe now, with the world so different and everything that had threatened them gone, Brian would see it more often. "So, I was wondering... if you still liked working on cars. Maybe you could come by sometime, help me out."

There was an element of pity Brian inferred from the tone of his voice. He answered harshly, "I don't need occupational therapy, you know."

Pulling his arm down and sitting up in the bed, Dom grabbed Brian's wrist, hard. "Where the fuck did that come from?"

His eyes cast down at the sheets, Brian said, "I don't know. Sorry." He noticed the way the sheet draped across Dom's hip, the contrast of the white against his tan skin. "I guess I'm just tired of everyone having pity for me."

"Who has pity? No pity here. Only asking because I want to."

"Just forget I said it." He pushed off the bed and pulled a T-shirt over his head. "What do you say we get out of here? Go do something. Work on the Charger, maybe?"

"We could do that." Dom grabbed his clothes off the floor. "You wanna get a bite first?"

"Okay."

Dom watched as Brian put his shoes on and stuffed his wallet and keys in his pocket. There was something about the way he moved, still stiff and favoring his side, that gave Dom pause, but he wasn't going to bring it up again. Maybe when they spent more time with each other, it would come out. For now, though, he was willing to wait and see.

 

If you really wanted something in life, Dom's father had always told him, you had to sacrifice to get it. Bringing Brian back into his life didn't exactly mean everything was easy, but what was hard right now would prove worth it in the long run. Vince did his best to be friendly despite not being one to make a lot of small talk, so he and Brian settled in to a kind of respectful acceptance -- though not much else. They would never be buddies, but at least they were on good enough terms that it didn't piss Dom off on a daily basis. Leon, too, had been glad to see Brian back, but Leon was always like that. It was Mia, weirdly, who was coldest to Brian. She didn't exactly shun him, but she kept her distance. Dom wanted to ask why, but never did. Maybe because he was afraid of the answer.

The world felt less empty with Brian around; not that it made Jesse's loss any less painful, but having everyone there filled up the space, made them all feel like they were moving forward again, not just drifting. They were often at the house like before, watching a movie or just hanging around, but he and Brian kept things on the down-low anywhere else but at Brian's place. Dom was pretty sure others would add the numbers together at some point, but he would ignore it until they did. This was their own time while they could get it; when the rest of the world started freaking out, then everything would be lost.

Still, it was far from smooth. Underneath the smiles and laughs, there was a strange current running through Brian, like he was always angry. At what, Dom couldn't tell. He'd asked once if it was because Brian had been shot helping out in a situation Dom had created, which only angered Brian more. "I can't believe I have to keep telling you that I don't blame you for any of this," he'd barked, and Dom had kept his yap shut after that. Not an easy thing to do when Brian woke up from occasional nightmares breathing heavily and sweating.

But his silence stopped when Dom noticed how fast Brian went through the bottles of aspirin with codeine he kept in a kitchen cabinet. It wasn't like you could call it a habit, and his pain wasn't severe enough for Dom to forcibly haul him to the doctor. No one else would even notice the bad temper he got. But it worried him enough to finally bring it up. They were in bed, lazing around on a Sunday morning in their jeans after a trip out for morning espresso, but with Brian so distant, Dom just dove in.

"I know you like to take care of shit on your own. And I know you hate it when I ask questions. But I gotta know what's going on. All these weeks, seems like you should be happier. Getting better. But you don't."

The way Brian looked at him was a lot like those first few days they rolled together trying to get Mia back. Disdain, some fear. He put the sports section down. "I'm fine."

"Really getting sick of that answer."

"What do you want me to say? That I've got PTSD or something? That's the department shrink's business."

"No, I just want you to tell me the truth. Brian, talk to me." Dom sat up, crossed his legs underneath him.

Brian pressed the heel of his palm to his forehead. "It's just... I don't know. Sometimes, yeah, it still hurts and it shouldn't. I get headaches sometimes, especially at work. Nothing you wouldn't expect, though."

With a firm grip, Dom tugged on Brian's shoulder, pulling his head into his lap. "You get nightmares, too."

"Yeah, sometimes. It's just the shooting, like it's on replay."

"Not sometimes, Bri. Almost every night." He ran his fingers through Brian's hair, rubbed his thumbs gently around his temples. "Did you actually see the department shrink?"

"They made me go for a while, but it's kind of pointless. Shit happens on a job like this."

Dom continued what he was doing, waiting a while before he spoke. "Not like this, it doesn't." He put his hands on either side of Brian's face. "There's more you're not dealing with."

"It's just here. It isn't something I can control, or make go away."

"Yeah, you can. "

Brian gave a choking laugh, one that sounded almost like a sob. All this time he'd needed to talk about this shit but never had, and it was eating him alive. "How? When does it go away, when I snap my fingers and say the magic words?"

All the wasted time when Dom had thought he was saving Brian and here it was, coming back to haunt him: what he had never done to help Brian as he should have, as Brian deserved. The way you do for family, for the ones you love. "No," Dom said softly, "It'll go when you take control back. When you let go of feeling like you did something wrong."

Brian closed his eyes, turning his face to the side. The shrug he gave told Dom everything. Mia had once called Dom the king of denial; he couldn't compete with Brian in that department.

"Think about it. You shot and killed a guy. No matter how much you train for that, it's a bitch to handle -- and you never handled it. You went right back into this shit with me. And then _you_ got shot. Jesus, Brian, anyone would be a head-case after that. Anyone. You were alone all this time, feeling like you were responsible for everything. Me, included."

"I keep telling you, I don't blame you."

"Maybe not, but you were pissed at me. Shit, I'd be pissed at me." He leaned down and kissed Brian's forehead. "But you're strong, I told you that. Stronger than me. You can do this."

"I don't know how." Brian didn't sound so much sad as exhausted by his own pain, carrying the weight of it for so long.

"Well, guess what, dumbass, you don't have to figure it out all by yourself now. You got me."

For a while Brian didn't move, just lay there as Dom's hands stroked his skin, letting everything he'd said sink in. There was something about Dom's deep, comforting voice, the big strong hands, that made Brian believe maybe he really could get past this. Dom had said, "Talk to me," something no one had ever asked of him before. Brian reached up to put his hand over Dom's. "Yeah, I do, don't I?"

Pushing Brian to the side, Dom slid down the bed next to him, then threw his arm across Brian's chest. Head resting on one hand, he looked down at Brian. It had never been hard to get why Dom was the paternal figure in everyone's lives, why people would defer to him. That quality had made Brian fall for him in the first place; even when things were blowing up in your face, you believed that with Dom around, everything could be all right. Brian had seen the cracks in that façade -- Dom's temper, that insane rage and focus, the fear that he carried of failing everyone he loved. Yet even knowing those flaws, Brian had no doubts that Dom really was that guy -- the leader, the powerful one. Everyone's big brother. Dom liked being needed; no matter how tired he was of being stuck in charge, it came as naturally to him as driving, it was in his blood. If Dom believed himself a failure, Brian instead saw the man Dom's father had made, the one who knew how to take care of people.

"Maybe you should be the department shrink," Brian said with a smile.

"Mm. Yeah, I bet they'd really like it when I tell them my plan for making you feel better." He unbuttoned Brian's fly, sliding the jeans down his naked hips. He took some time to run the backs of his fingers up and down Brian's thighs, along his belly, waiting for him to get hard, which wasn't much of a wait at all. All Dom really had to do these days was look at him.

"Wait, if I guess a Marvin Gaye song, will I be in the neighborhood?" His voice got a little higher than he would have liked as Dom abruptly sank his teeth into Brian's ass; hard enough to send a thrill rocketing through his body, light enough not to hurt. Kind of the way it always was with Dom.

Brian watched as Dom took his cock in his mouth, something that still, even after all these months, never failed add such a jolt of pleasure that he could barely hold back. Closing his eyes, Brian let Dom work him, rapt with the silky sensation of tongue and lips, hands that stroked the insides of his thighs, until he came in rolling waves.

As he pulled himself up beside Brian, Dom wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning. Brian took a swipe at the wetness on his belly, rubbing it off on the sheets. "Gotta do some laundry before it starts getting rank in here." He chuckled at the sour look on Dom's face.

"Too late." Dom flopped down with a grunt. "How's the plan working?"

"Good first step. Let's maintain a regular therapy appointment, how 'bout it?"

"I promise you'll be my most important client."

They never talked seriously about the sex, about anything related to the relationship at all. The closest they'd ever come was the conversation of that morning. Sometimes Brian wondered what Dom wanted out of it, if this was the way they were going to stay. Not that he was complaining, but it felt like they were outside their lives. He should be content to just have Dom back, but he wasn't sure that it would ever seem normal or average, something they didn't have to work at or be concerned with.

"I was thinking we should do something today. Go surfing." Brian knew that would get Dom in a panic.

"I don't do water," Dom said with a dignified sniff.

"Don't give me that shit. Consider it part of my therapy. I do something I like, it'll get things out of my system. If you want me to get better, you'll go surfing with me."

"Hell I will."

Brian was afraid he might start laughing and never stop. Dom hated to deny him anything, but he was still a hardass about what constituted fun. "Think of the visual pleasure you'll give all the chicks on the beach. Not to mention some of the guys. A bod like this is not something to deny the rest of the world." He slapped Dom's thigh.

"If I go, you're not getting me in the water. But I'm all over watching you."

"Yee hah." Brian jumped out of bed. "I promise you vast rewards at the end of this."

"You better. Look, just promise me you're gonna take it easy till you're back in shape."

"No prob. Oh, and by the way. Dumbass is what I call you." He threw a t-shirt, hitting Dom in the face. " _You_ may call me Mr. Stunning." All he got was that scowl.

Smiling, Brian gathered up his stuff, watching Dom get dressed. There were a lot of things you could call Dom, but selfless wasn't one of them. In many respects they didn't spend as much time with each other as most people who were involved did, between their jobs and trying to keep things low-key. Dom was at his place most nights, but a weekend excursion was pretty much unheard of in the time they'd been together. Maybe things were starting to change.

 

Mia had managed to avoid Brian for most of the past few months, not to mention keep her contact with Dom to a minimum. It wasn't like she didn't know he wanted to talk to her -- that both of them wanted to talk to her, find out what she was _feeling,_ and that concept was nauseating enough, thanks. But she was damned if she was going to give them the satisfaction of knowing what all these changes had done to her. In the morning she would leave by the time Dom got up, then stayed late at school to study or went to a friend's apartment to hang out. A couple of times, Dom had tried to trick her by getting up extra early, but he'd never been much of a morning person -- while Mia herself was wide awake and capable of functioning before it was even light -- so avoiding him had been simple. By the time she'd get home in the evening Dom was generally at Brian's, or so she assumed, and if he wasn't, Vince was there, occasionally with Leon, so there wouldn't be any conversations about _relationships_ no matter how many beers were consumed.

Until one day she let her guard down, thinking the coast was finally clear, and Brian cornered her in the kitchen. No way had she expected him to be there, a weekday evening when Dom would normally have been over at Brian's, only there he was and no Dom in sight. Mia almost wanted to grab a knife to warn him away, but that would be a little over the top. She was just so pissed she couldn't see straight, and didn't know what to do with all that anger roiling in her gut. Torettos yelled and threw things and got it out of their systems; now, though, there was nothing for her to do that to, or with.

"Hey, Mia, how's it going?" Brian asked, backing her into a corner while acting as though he not only didn't know how it was going, but he wasn't pushing her into a space she couldn't escape from without knocking him on his ass.

She tried to move around him, but he sidestepped along with her. "It's great, Brian. Going really great." Absolutely no way was she going to meet his eyes -- let herself get sucked in by those baby blues he'd used to hypnotize everyone before. "I need to go."

"We're heading out in a minute, soon as Dom gets here. I just thought I'd hang around and say hi, see where things were."

Glaring at him, Mia asked in a voice more brittle than she would have liked, "Where things were? You actually think you can ask me that?"

He put the bottle of beer he'd been holding in her hand; his touch was a static shock, sharp and unpleasant. "It's long past time to say something, isn't it?"

"Oh, wait, I get it. You want us to be _friends_."

"That'd be nice, but not what I'm expecting. I don't blame you for hating me. The only thing I can hope for is a truce, and for you to stop punishing Dom for what I did."

"Well, that's mighty generous of you, Brian. Gosh, I'm glad we cleared that up." Again she tried to maneuver around him and again he blocked her.

"What is it that pisses you off more? That your brother's sleeping with a guy, or that you think I used you to get to him?"

That brought her up short. She'd never expected to hear it laid out like that; confronting this pain that had festered for so long threw her off balance. A couple of times Mia opened her mouth, then closed it, unable to figure out what to say, before answering, "I... I don't know. Both. I guess. Goddammit, Brian, you come into our lives and make me fall for you and the whole time you're lying, and then you... you and Dom are like a freaking _couple_... What the hell am I supposed to think about that? And you nearly died saving my life, and Vince's, and I just don't know what to do with that. Sometimes I hate you so much for all of this, and sometimes I know that you gave a lot back to us, and I just... I don't know."

Brian smiled at her, the blinding-white grin that had taken her by surprise all those months ago. "How about you don't try to fight it? When you want to hate me, hate me, and when you want to almost like me, then you can do that too. Mix it up a little. Variety being the spice of life and all."

She ducked her head, trying not to smile. It was so hard to stay pissed at the bastard. Brian put his hand on her shoulder.

"Look, I know it's tough. This is weirder than weird, don't think I don't get that. Dom doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, and I never wanted to hurt you. If you'd rather have us stay the hell away from you, we will. But Dom misses you, he misses being a family. He doesn't talk about it -- like that'd ever happen -- but I can tell how he feels, and not being able to be here with you... He'd like to at least talk to you. Really talk."

"Dom doesn't talk. You know that. He yells a bunch of stuff at you and you're supposed to listen and do what he says."

"He does though, now. He's changed a lot, seeing how everything he's done has affected people." He ran his hands through his hair. "Just so you know, it hasn't been easy for me. I've had a hard time about the shooting, other crap that happened, and he called me on it. So. You might be surprised."

"No kidding, I'd be surprised." Mia watched his face, wondering if he was putting her on, but he appeared to be very sincere. That was one of the most difficult things about losing him -- he'd made her feel like no one else had; so often she'd remembered his comment about being on the team for her, not for Dom. Mia sighed. "I'll think about it, okay? Maybe if it's on one of the days where I don't hate you both, I'll page you. That's the best I can offer."

"Hey, it's something." Brian shrugged, giving her a quizzical look. He wanted to ask more, she could tell, but was probably figuring he should quit while he was ahead.

Mia pointed her finger. "It doesn't mean I'm not still pissed off in general."

"I feel you." He turned to go, actually winking at her. That was going too far. "See you soon."

Mia lingered in the doorway, watching as he went out to the garage to pick up a few things, then drove away. It was impossible to stay angry with him, this guy who'd been so lonely for so long, who'd wanted the self-made family they offered more than anything. Brian wasn't the type to hurt people intentionally, he had a good heart, but it seemed like anyone who got mixed up with Dom ended up hurting others, no matter what their intentions. Mia finished off the beer and went back upstairs, looking in Dom's room. No one even really lived in it anymore; the room was spotless and uncluttered. In a way, Mia supposed, she was partly to blame for that.

There'd been more than a few times, if she was feeling more charitable, that Mia wondered why she was having such a hard time accepting the fact that her brother was sleeping with a guy. Sure, there was a ton of extra baggage, like the fact that he used to be _her_ boyfriend, but still... she'd wanted to think of herself as more enlightened. Instead Mia was bitter, a little disgusted, and kind of... well, hurt, maybe that was the word. It didn't make any sense, but it was how she felt, and there wasn't a whole hell of a lot she could do except work through it and hope time fixed her heart.

Mia threw her books down on the bed and opened a can of pop, hoping she'd still be awake by the time Dom got home so she could give this talking thing a try.

 

For a long time, Dom had wanted to get back to something like the life he'd had before. Brian knew it wasn't his plan to start street racing again -- especially since he was, on Tanner's advice, bringing his case in front of the people who'd barred him from the track in an attempt to get on the NIRA circuit, at least -- but he and Brian did show up at meets just to watch and maintain relationships. Weirdly, his rep had only grown once stories had spread, often wildly embellished, about what he and Brian had done. It would be a long time before he'd need to look for business, but the heroic tales were pretty much good only for Dom and had never done Brian any favors with his fellow cops.

Yet there was a restless quality about him that Brian could never really pin down. Even with Mia being friendly again -- sort of, anyway -- Dom seemed edgy. In an attempt to figure out what was up, Brian had even gone so far as to talk to Vince, a conversation that would have been funny if it hadn't been so awkward and weird for both of them. Vince was certain about only one thing: Dom had lived outside the boundaries of ordinary life for so long, the straight and narrow would be harder line to walk. At first Brian found that tough to swallow, until the day he'd tailed Dom as he left for some mysterious errand.

He'd ended up way the hell down in Long Beach after one hell of a follow, trying to keep up with Dom on the 405 during afternoon traffic. Dom had pulled up in front of a small apartment building, taking a while to get out. After knocking on the door and waiting, then knocking again and waiting some more, he'd stuck something in the mailbox and left.

Later at work, Brian had looked up the address: Kenny Linder. All this time Dom was still giving him money, but probably never had the chance to speak to him. It troubled Brian that he could never really fix the way he revisited his crimes, over and over. Vince had been right, but in a different way than he might have realized -- for Dom, life was still full of past misdeeds, of the things he couldn't set right but wanted to. As much as Dom wanted to help Brian with the issues eating away at him, the only thing that would help Dom would be time.

They both tried their best, though. Before he and Dom had split, there'd been talk of having a party in Jesse's honor, so Brian brought it up again when they were all together. Vince and Leon went predictably insane over the idea, as if they'd never had a party in their lives. It had been too long since they'd done something just for fun.

Brian was on shift the night of the party; by the time he arrived, cars lined the street and people spilled out all the doors. They crowded the driveway and the garage and the lawns. Apparently everyone who used to roll with Dom and his posse had missed the freebies at the Toretto house. Vince stood framed in the living room window, waving a giant plastic cup around, probably trying to impress some chick with his war stories. Weaving his way through the crowd, Brian saw the unmistakable mass of King, manning the barbecue, probably staying outside since he wouldn't be able to get through those narrow, old doorways. Brian returned the hand gesture when King spotted him; they'd run into each other a couple times at meets, and like everyone, he kept a respectful but friendly distance from Brian. They all knew now that he was a cop; some of them, at least, got that he was still one of them. As long as he had Dom's seal of approval, there wasn't much people wouldn't give him.

That was, so long as they kept things as they were. He wouldn't have minded more of Dom's time, staying together in some place -- either his or Dom's -- 24/7, but that wasn't likely any time soon. It had been hard enough for both of them to accept the changes in their lives and much as they would have liked to move forward, they both knew they weren't ready to face the shitstorm that would follow being out.

"It's nice, isn't it? Like before," a voice behind him said, and he turned to see Mia. She sounded so different, relaxed and pleased.

"Yeah. Jess would have liked it. Music, booze, scantily dressed girls who aren't picky about whose tongue is in their mouth..."

Mia smirked. "Dom's upstairs, I think. Better get some beer while you can; we're running low. I'm going to have to send Leon out for another keg soon." She vanished into the crowd, so Brian made the rounds, grabbing a bottle of beer from Leon as he made his way through. Upstairs, surrounded by girls, Dom was holding court, just like always. The only thing different was that Letty wasn't around to scare anyone off. Brian gave him a slight nod, and Dom squeezed past the girls.

"Shindig got a little bigger than expected, huh?" Brian asked, waving a hand around expansively.

"Gonna go broke from this," Dom said with a sigh, but Brian could tell he was damn happy. And happier now that Brian was here.

"Not much of a wake. Or whatever you'd call it. Just a big-ass party. Do half the people here even know Jess? Sorry. Knew."

Dom blinked. "Ah, just got out of hand. Someone told two friends, and they told two friends..."

He felt guilty. "Nah, a lot of people knew Jess," Brian said. "He was on your team."

Dom gave him that "don't bullshit me" look and arched an eyebrow. "Uh huh. It's not like they're here for the booze and the weed."

"Yeah, okay." Dom steered him down the stairs and toward the back room that Vince had stayed in. It was quieter, and he wanted to take some time with Brian while he could. Weird how fast he'd grown used to the low-key life. Not to mention how fast he'd gotten to a point where he couldn't imagine life without Brian in it.

"By the time King finally runs out of barbecue, people will leave." Dom glanced out the window, shaking his head at the way the guy had taken over the party. That was what he liked about King, though.

"I was expecting you to be the one running that show."

"You don't wanna get between King and large slabs of meat." Dom perched on the windowsill and Brian stood next to him, leaning against the wall. The only other people in the room drifted out after a few minutes, and Dom looked up at him.

"He _is_ a large slab of meat."

He got the impression that Brian was nervous or something. "You okay? Work bad?"

"Nah. The usual. Actually, got good news today, they're putting me back on patrol. Apparently my desk skills and coffee-making ability have dazzled everyone and they think I'm ready for the mean streets of L.A. again."

"Then what is it?"

Brian gave him his worst fake-innocent look. "I'm surprised that no one's running for the hills with a cop here," Brian said with a shrug. "People act like it's no big, but... come on. They've gotta be freaked."

"No reason for that. You've been to races, everyone knows you're cool."

"Uh huh. I bet they do." Brain threw in a smirk for emphasis, which made Dom want to bite his lip right there. "And I'm sure it had nothing to do with you paving the way. "

"Maybe just a little..." Dom stood up, shoving the door near-closed with his foot. "Jesus. I must be getting old because the noise is driving me batshit."

"Hey, you kids, turn down that goddamn rock and roll." Brian backed up against the wall, hooking his heel up on the edge of the wainscoting. Dom pushed his knee sideways and moved in on him, both palms against the wall on either side of his head.

"Somehow I don't think this is a good idea. But you're also drunk, so I don't imagine anything I say is going to matter to you."

"Hell, I'm not _that_ drunk. I just don't care."

Nodding, Brian said, "Because you're, you know, drunk."

Dom leaned in and kissed him, lips imbued with the essence of tequila and salt and lime. Brian pushed his hand up under Dom's shirt, warming on his smooth skin. For a moment the noise disappeared and the only thing he was aware of was the sensation of Dom's lips, the taste of his mouth, and the pressure of his body against Brian's. As he pulled away, Dom said, "That'll do for a while."

"It better, 'cause that's all you're gonna get--" Before he got the rest of his sentence out, Brian looked over Dom's shoulder, noticing there were people standing in the doorway. Specifically, Leon, Vince, and Mia.

While neither Mia nor Vince were very happy -- Mia had her hand on her forehead like she was in pain -- it was Leon who was in the worst shock, mouth hanging open and eyes wide. It took a few seconds for Dom to realize that Brian was freaking over something and he stared at him, confused, then slowly turned around to see what Brian was looking at. As Dom made eye contact with him, Leon went out to the hall in a hurry, the other two on his heels.

"Shit," was all Dom said before he picked up a half-empty beer bottle sitting on the dresser and threw it against the wall.

"Well, we knew it was gonna happen sooner or later," Brian commented, rubbing his forehead. "More than a few people must have figured you bringing me back knowing I was a cop, and the way we're always together... that means something. Dom and Brian sitting in a tree..."

Pointing a finger at him, Dom said, "Do _not_ start with the jokes. This ain't the time for that."

"Bullshit, there's never been a better time for jokes. K-I-S-S-I-N-G," Brian mock-sang, pushing his hand up under Dom's shirt.

For a second Brian thought Dominic was actually going to cry till he realized he was just fighting off a grin. Most people could only get Dom to sort of smile and half-chuckle, but Brian had always been able to pull real laughter from him. The more inappropriate the timing, the harder Dom laughed.

"Come on, Dom. We'd be morons if we thought it was gonna stay this way forever. We lose people, or we lose each other. You had that right the first time."

"I don't want to deal with this shit."

That made Brian suck in a breath, his stomach seizing up. "Okay. If that's the way you want it. Just say the word..." Here we go again, he thought.

"No! Fuck, that's not what I meant." Dom scowled. "I'm not going to walk again. Told you that."

Brian let his breath out. "Sorry. Look, let's go find them. We got to at least talk it out."

Dom arched an eyebrow. "Somehow I don't think talking is going to do much besides make it worse."

"Consider it damage control, then."

"Yes, officer." Dom followed him out the room.

 

They found the three of them out near the street, as far away from people as they could get without trespassing on the neighbor's property. Brian trailed behind Dom, and he wasn't sure Brian could hear what they were saying, but Dom caught a piece of the conversation.

"Look," Vince was saying. "You love Dom. We all do." He paused for a moment, reacting to something Leon was saying, but Dom couldn't tell what it was. "I don't mean that way, you moron. I'm just saying, we're family. You love your family no matter what."

"Not when they're fucking faggots, you don't," Leon said in the voice he always used when he was being stubborn, just to annoy Vince.

"You want to lose him, all of us, because you got _problems_?" This was where he'd taunt Leon, hoping for a fight; Dom knew Vince's ways like he knew his own. Fighting might make it easier for Vince to stick up for Dom and Brian.

Mia stood with her arms crossed over her chest, pointedly not saying anything. That was a bad sign; when she was quiet, she was worse than when she was loud and pissed.

"Are you telling me you don't got problems? Jesus, Vince, they were..." Apparently he couldn't even bring himself to say it.

"I _know_. Look, I ain't saying I'm cool with it. I'm just saying... life is really fucking short, you know? I learned the hard way that there's worse things to be worried about than who's fucking who. What difference does it make? It's still Dom. It's still family."

Leon turned to look at Mia, and Dom could clearly see his face for the first time. He looked like he was going to blow a gasket, not what you'd normally see on his face. Before, Dom had thought it would take a shotgun blast to get Leon tense about anything. Apparently this was the shotgun blast. "This doesn't piss you off? Wasn't he supposed to be _your_ boyfriend?" Leon asked her.

"That was over a long time ago," Mia said.

"That ain't an answer."

Vince took hold of Leon's shoulder and then looked up toward the house, finally seeing Dom there.

"Get over it," he said angrily. "You got a choice to make. But think about everyone we've lost this year. That really worth it?"

Dom stepped forward out of the shadow, and Mia jumped. Brian came up behind him.

"Your choice, Leon." He didn't want to sound pissed, but it was hard to keep the edge out of his voice. "Not expecting you to stick around if you don't want to."

Leon didn't respond.

Brian offered, in a voice so quiet Dom could hardly hear him, "I'm sorry you had to see that. Find out that way."

Leon glanced sideways. But Dom could tell he was going to cave. Vince had gotten to him with that shit about life being too short.

As Leon walked past him toward the house, he made a point to stay as far away from Dom and Brian as possible. Dom half-turned and asked over his shoulder, "We good?"

"I'll let you know," Leon responded sourly, but Dom was pretty sure he'd come around. No one would ever like this; as more people found out, things were going to get pretty chilly. Brian was right about that.

Mia followed Leon, but she gave Dom's shoulder a little squeeze. At least she was warming up more each day. She would probably never view the situation as anything but "this is the way it is so we have to put up with it." Still, Dom had learned one thing after prison: you had to take what people were willing to give you. Didn't matter if you were an ex-con or sleeping with a guy -- people would make a judgment, and you had to find a way to make it work with them, or not, and move on.

 

Fallout from the party was something both of them expected. But for a while things stayed quiet. Dom didn't try to force the issue with Leon, or anyone else for that matter. He and Brian had talked things over, Brian insisting it was better to simply play it by ear, wait to see how things worked out. Though that didn't stop Dom from asking him to move into the house in the spare room that Vince had used. Brian put him off instead, claiming they spent enough time together as it was, and it wasn't like they were being forced apart in order to avoid prying eyes.

They'd settled in to a kind of rhythm, even if life wasn't as crazy as before -- and they both felt it was good. Not too long ago Dom was just an ex-con going nowhere; now he was out of the life, happy with someone who he was pretty sure was happy with him. He didn't really believe that things could get better. Then one day he sorted through the mail, finding a letter he had bargained on never actually seeing.

Brian was in the garage, working on the Charger, their never-ending project. Because he had a weekend patrol shift, his days off came in the middle of the week. Dom frequently found him at the house when he came off work, cleaning up parts or buried under the chassis. The Charger had come to be more Brian's pet project than his. Its meaning and connection to his father had long since faded for Dom, probably thanks to getting bounced around in it like a sack of groceries and ending up with his brain scrambled for a long time.

"Hey," Dom said, slapping Brian on the ass.

He straightened up and fixed Dom with a disgruntled glare. "Slap my ass like that again and I'll drop-kick you out to curb." Then he seemed to notice Dom was smiling. "What's up?"

Waving the letter, Dom said, "Guess what came in the mail."

"Looks like paper. Probably came in an envelope? Funny how that works."

"My petition has been okayed. I can race again."

Brian let out a huge whoop and threw an arm around Dom's neck, pulling him tight and slapping him on the back. " _That_ is fucking great!"

"Just NIRA, but it's something. Guess your old boss was as good as his word. Don't think they'd have listened if not for him. And you."

"I didn't do much. You can give Tanner all the credit. Man, we need to go out and celebrate. Drinks are on me."

Dom cocked his head sideways. "Nah, seriously. All this is because of you."

Brian's response was to duck his head, but his face turned damn pink from embarrassment. You couldn't really say thanks or show the guy any appreciation without him lapsing into his "aw, shucks" routine. It was time for him to get used to being around people who cared for him, to get used to being appreciated.

When Brian looked up, his face abruptly changed, the same look he'd had when he saw Leon that night. This time, though, it was Hector. Jesus, it just kept coming...

"Hey, Hector," Brian said, acting like he was thrown. "How's it going?"

Hector nodded in his direction, then fixed his gaze on Dom. "You got a minute?"

With a quick motion to let Brian know that it was okay, Dom went out to the driveway. He sat down on the edge of the wall and Hector sat next to him, definitely not close. He was a very unhappy guy today.

"I been hearing some talk. About you and Snowman."

"Yeah? Let me guess what that kind of talk is." Dom shook his head in disgust.

Hector heaved a big sigh, like somehow this burden was all on him. Now that Dom wasn't racing anymore, the two of them only occasionally saw each other in person. There were kids Hector knew who wanted their cars tricked, but who he didn't have time for, and they got sent Dom's way. But that was pretty much most of their relationship. "I didn't wanna believe that. You, of all people, taking it--"

"Stop right there," Dom said sharply. It was a voice Hector had heard him use a hundred times before to shut people up when things got fucked. If Hector didn't know him so well, he'd think Dom was ready for a fight. "You don't want to go anywhere near this with me. Got it?"

"All true then, huh, homes?" Hector had hoped the whole thing was someone's idea of a retarded joke.

"What's your point? You feel the need to come here and piss me off?"

"No, man, just come here see what's the what. 'Cause I didn't believe. You, out of anyone. Never would have put Blondie down for that, either. Shit."

"What business is it of yours? Since we're bein' so friendly."

Hector half-expected Dom to throw down on him. Fact was, he didn't really have a good answer. "We gonna be racing again, I hear. Same _social_ circles."

"How the fuck did you know that? I just found out a few minutes ago."

"Got my ways." He shook his head. "This is some fucked-up shit." The first time someone told him Dominic and Snowman were spending too much time together, he'd laughed. But the more he heard, the more Hector knew he'd have to find out straight, no matter how sick it made him. Him and Dom, they had history.

"Yeah, you keep saying that. I got stuff to do, so can we wrap this up? Why don't you just make your remarks about faggots and how sick it is and then beat it."

"That ain't my point." Hector took a deep breath. "I'm freaked, no shit. I don't know what to think about it. But I got a lot of people who need shit I can't do, and I still gotta send 'em your way. I just want to know who I'm dealing with."

"Don't you mean _what_ you're dealing with? Isn't that what you're here for, to remind me about all the ways I'm going to hell or what a sick fuck I am?"

Hector stood up and waved a hand at Dom. "When you asked me for help, I helped. I didn't do it because I'm a great guy, you know? I ain't saying this makes sense to me or that I'm cool with it or I'm gonna start wearing a pride button. But if I'm going to pass someone on to you, then I better know. You're still the one to go to for the best work."

"Now you know. So you can leave." Dom was pissed, no mistaking that, but Hector could tell he wasn't going to hold on to it. They had a lot of years behind them and Hector didn't think he was willing to throw all that away just because this was crazy bad. Dom said, "Look. I got a choice: It's Brian, or it's everyone else in the world. I'm going for Brian, and I don't give a shit who's got problems with it."

"Okay, brah. Okay." Hector put his fist out, and after a few minutes, Dom reached up and knocked his knuckles. "Say adios to Snowman for me."

Dom watched him walk away, feeling tired. He supposed this was what the future would be like -- everyone looking at them with disgust, making jokes and sneering behind their backs. The best they could hope for would be the way Vince had acted -- not happy about the changes, but valuing the friendship more. It was good that Hector didn't want to cut the ties, not for this, especially since they were definitely going to see more of each other. Hector was a good enough guy that Dom had some faith it might work itself out. Others, he wasn't so sure about.

Brian ambled up to him, wiping his hands on a shop rag. "Let me guess. You make me wanna puke? Or maybe it's the Catholic gonna go to hell speech."

"Nah. Just... freaking out."

"Does he know there's a club for that now?" Brian asked.

Dom looked up at him standing there smiling. Even after all this time Brian blinded him with his brightness. It made all the other bullshit endurable.

"Yeah, don't they have meetings at the church on the next block? Call themselves Jesus Christ They're Faggots!"

"You've heard of it."

Dom stood up. "Gonna be this way a lot."

"Yeah."

Brian watched him with that teasing face he made when he tried to work Dom into a laugh. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot he wouldn't give up for that look or that smile. Everything they'd been through, together and alone, felt like a dream he'd had once, faded into meaningless, vague memory. The past didn't matter, just the future with Brian in it. Whatever happened, happened, and it would all be worth it.

"Don't know about you, but I figure it's worth it," Dom said.

Brian threw the shop rag inside the garage and closed the big door. "You and me both." He dug his car keys out of his pocket. "Come on, you said we were going to celebrate." Then he tossed the keys to Dom. "You're driving."

 

End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the lyrics quoted at the start of chapters are from various Bruce Springsteen songs.


End file.
